Of Elusive Realities and Convincing Facades
by cosettex
Summary: Hermione deludes herself into thinking she loves Ron, Ron deludes himself into thinking he and Hermione are happy, Voldemort deludes The Order into thinking he's keeping his word...
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not make any money from these writings.

* * *

It is a strange way in which the political mind functions. Some would like to believe it possesses a superior intellect; however, time has proven that the only superior quality it has is a blinding love for power. Blinding to the point of ignorance and paranoia.

Dumbledore had come to understand this only recently. He had thought that things would be better once Fudge was out of office; however, his successor, Scrimgeour, was a carbon copy of Cornelius in all but name. In some ways, he was worse though, especially since he had appointed Dolores Umbridge as his Under Secretary and Advisor. At first, Scrimgeour and Dumbledore got along well, and they talked extensively about joining forces against Voldemort. Rufus was every bit the affectionate and eager student that Dumbledore remembered; however, in no time, Umbridge had turned the minister against the headmaster. She made him fear that Dumbledore wanted to gain power through their friendship and promote his name over Rufus'. Umbridge had gone as far as to suggest that if the Order won against Voldemort instead of the ministry, the people would want Dumbledore to take over as minister and would oust Scrimgeour from power. Dumbledore had tried to reassure Scrimgeour that he had no such intentions, but the seed of distrust had already been planted in the taciturn minister.

Just a few days ago, the final blow had been dealt, through Ministerial Decree Number 22, The Order of The Phoenix headed by Albus Dumbledore was declared a rogue, enemy faction along with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his followers. Dumbledore sniffed and smiled lightly as he thought of the irony.

"Dumbledore."

Albus looked up just in time to see another former student.

"Tom."

Voldemort came forward, his robe rustling as imperceptibly as his apparition had been.

"So, apparently we are now on the same side," the Dark Lord went on, a smirk on his face as he came to a stop in front of Dumbledore's desk.

Dumbledore made a motion with his hand towards the leather armchair in front of him. "Please."

"I'd rather stand, " Voldemort said coldly.

Dumbledore acquiesced with a forced nod; he knew that he should be grateful the wretched dark wizard had even come.

"Would you like a drink?" Albus went on attempting to be hospitable.

"Death by poisoning has never been appealing to me," Voldemort replied. Dumbledore opened his mouth to reassure him, but the Dark Lord cut him off with a hand motion. "I am not here to socialize, Albus, tell me what you want so I can take my leave."

"Well, since the Ministry declared the Order enemy combatants, we all conferred and decided it would be best to take care of one threat at a time . . . therefore I, on behalf of the Order, would like to propose a temporary alliance," Dumbledore finished while gazing over his glasses at the Dark Lord.

"And the terms?"

Albus pushed back his chair and stood up, the height difference had been making him uncomfortable. He walked around his desk and stopped a few feet from Voldemort. "Temporarily set aside our differences and unite forces to bring down the Ministry. Once it is out of the way, the struggle for power can begin and everything will go back to normal; however, to ensure that our differences are _completely _set aside until that time, you and I would take Unbreakable Vows, and the rest of our . . . people would take simple vows –"

"Why not Unbreakable?" Voldemort asked coldly.

"Well, because none of them are highly-skilled wizards like you and I; a simple vow would be more than –"

"No," Voldemort snapped. "Unbreakables all or nothing."

Dumbledore gave a tight nod; it was not many times that he had to keep his temper in check, but being interrupted was one of his pet peeves. "Fine."

Voldemort smirked at the headmaster's discomfort. "And I won't be taking an Unbreakable Vow as I will not put my life at stake. A simple vow should be more than enough for all of us."

Dumbledore blinked. "You just said you wanted an Unbreakable Vow for everyone."

Tom shrugged. "Changed my mind." He smiled through pressed lips.

"Tom, I'm not playing games here; this is serious," Dumbledore said rather forcefully.

"I can play as many games as I desire, Dumbledore," a smirking Tom said quietly while coming towards him with slow, calculated steps; Albus stepped back, "because don't forget that I have been battling two forces since this conflict began. The Ministry's decree doesn't affect me in the slightest; if anything, it benefits me. However, the same cannot be said for you." He stopped advancing while staring at Dumbledore's blue eyes which had lost their calmness and were like a tempest at sea. "You know you're lucky that I even accepted your summon, you should be even more grateful that I am hearing you out –"

"Clearly there is something for you to gain or otherwise you wouldn't have responded to my call," Dumbledore snapped, happy to be interrupting him.

Voldemort shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe there is, but I can tell you that I would be losing nothing if I were to walk away from this deal. The same, of course, cannot be said for you. Therefore, I have the upper hand, and I say we will not be doing an Unbreakable Vow."

"Fine, a simple vow, but I get to set the terms," Dumbledore replied icily.

"I get to modify them as I see fit," Voldemort said with a smile.

"So long as parity is maintained," Dumbledore added. Voldemort gave a silent nod.

"Also," Dumbledore went on, "since we are going to be going with a simple vow, I think it would be best to have a person from each side in the opposing side to ensure that the armistice is not violated."

"Fine." Voldemort stood up. "I will pick a person, I suggest you do the same, and we will meet back here tomorrow to do the exchange and the vows."

Dumbledore didn't get to reply because as soon as Voldemort was done with his speech, he apparated away as silently as he had come.

The headmaster let out a loud sigh and sat back down in his chair.

* * *

"How's the new place? I am so sorry I couldn't come help you organize today, darling, but remember that little boy, Trevor? He was getting his teeth cleaned, and he wouldn't stop crying."

Hermione smiled and shook her head. "It's fine, mom, don't worry. We didn't do that much organizing anyway. Just moving the boxes in, and by the end of it, we were both so tired we went to sleep!" she finished, glancing at Ron who laughed and nodded.

"Yes, Fred and George were supposed to come help, but apparently they had a situation with a shipment of flowing green lava."

Hermione smiled humorously. Mr. Granger gave Ron a questioning look. "You know, the more I hear you talking about this magical joke shop of your brothers, the more interested I become in it. You really must take me to see it one day."

"Of course," Ron said.

"So," said Jean Granger, a twinkle in her eye, "does you two moving together mean that you have set a date?"

"No, we haven't yet," Hermione said quickly, "everything's been so busy, and with the war, and the Order . . . ."

"We also need to save up money so we can have the big wedding we want to have," Ron said while smiling at Hermione.

"Well, we would be more than happy to make a contribution," Jean went on turning to her husband for support, "a wedding should not be put off for monetary reasons!"

"Do you have an estimate of how much you need?" Hugo asked.

"Uhm…" Ron turned to Hermione who was busy drinking a glass of water, "in Muggle money it would be about 20 thousand pounds."

Hugo frowned. "What type of wedding do you want to have?"

"It's not that much, actually," Jean cut in, "I was watching a series on the telly, and none of the decent weddings cost less that 25 thousand pounds."

Hugo sniffed disbelievingly. "How are young people getting married these days, then?"

"Saving up," Ron muttered, "that's why engagements are so long."

"I would have been satisfied with a small wedding like Bill had, they spent a minimal amount," Hermione said.

"We can't do the same thing Bill did," Ron said sounding hurt, "we have to do something better . . .that way it won't be easy for the twins, Percy or Charlie to top it."

Hugo chuckled. "Ah, sibling rivalry. . . ."

The long-awaited change of conversation came after this. Hermione smiled in acknowledgement as she felt them swimming away from the deep end of the pool. It bothered her to think that her wedding was something awkward and unpleasant to speak of (at least until she and Ron actually went through with it). They had begun dating after graduation at Hogwarts; they were together for about a year before Ron proposed and that had been one of the happiest days of Hermione's life; however, two years later, she still had the engagement ring, and the wedding band was nowhere in sight. A few hours passed before Ron and Hermione excused themselves in order to attend an Order meeting that night.

"Do you think he accepted?" Hermione asked Ron as they walked away from her parents' house and towards an apparition point.

"Quite frankly, I hope not. I don't know how Dumbledore can even think for a second that You-Know-Who is not going to try to get the best of him," Ron said coldly; they disapparated with a 'crack' and reappeared outside Grimmauld Place. Ron knocked on the door loudly and wrapped his arm around Hermione who was aguish from the cold.

"Hermione, where was your last vacation?"

"Skiing in France," Hermione replied.

"Good. Ron, how old were you when you learned to ride a broomstick?"

"Five."

"No, wrong answer."

"George, knock it off," Ron snapped, "we're freezing out here."

The eyes narrowed. "George? How dare you!"

"Fred, George whoever! Let us in!" Ron went on as Hermione shuddered from the cold.

"Not until you say my name."

"Fred!"

"How do you know I'm not George?"

Hermione let out an exasperated cry. "George, Fred, please stop, I'm freezing. If you want to play pranks on Ron don't do it when I'm present."

There was a sigh. "Fine, just for you, future sis-in-law . . . just for you."

Then bolts and chains being taken off the door were heard before it was swung open. Instantly, Ron charged at the twins who were sporting grins; Hermione rolled her eyes and moved into the meeting room to warm up. The members of the Order looked up from their places around the table and against the walls as she entered, they had clearly been waiting for her and Ron so they could begin. Hermione gave them a small, apologetic smile and quietly sat down next to Ginny just as Ron and the twins lumbered in looking out of breath.

"Well, now that we are all here we can begin," Dumbledore said slowly. Pushing his chair back, he drew himself up to his full height. "I met with Voldemort earlier today, and I am pleased to announce that he has accepted."

Ginny and Hermione exchanged slightly furrowed glances. Ron along with other Order members made noises as if they wanted to say something; however, Harry was the one that actually spoke up.

"Under what terms?"

"Well, we decided that both sides would take a vow to preserve the armistice, and – to ensure fairness - we would also each have someone from our side in the opposing side keeping an eye on things. I have agreed to meet him tomorrow night to exchange emissaries; so right now we will be deciding who that person will be." To signal the end of his speech, Dumbledore sat back down.

"How will the vow be administered?" Arthur Weasley asked.

"The emissaries will administer it to the opposing side's members."

"How can you be sure Voldemort won't find a way to turn this situation in his favor?" Harry asked through narrowed eyes. Ron nodded and looked at Dumbledore expectantly.

"I can't say he won't try it, but unfortunately all we can do is keep our eyes and ears open so we can know what he is up to. That is why whoever is chosen to be the emissary will have to be not only the most magically competent, but sharp and courageous." Dumbledore sighed at the disdainful looks the Order members were sporting. "I can tell you all that I am not pleased by this at all, but at this point it is the lesser of two evils."

"What if we don't take the Alliance and just keep things how they are?" Tonks asked. Hermione grimaced slightly at the stupidity of this suggestion.

"Because there are not enough of us to fight the Ministry and Voldemort; it would be suicide," Dumbledore replied shortly.

"What would the emissary have to do?" Kingsley asked.

"Live with the other side and make sure the rules are followed. I suppose in our case, our emissary would live at Voldemort's mansion and attend their meetings and so forth."

"And Voldemort agreed to this?" Harry asked a little incredulously.

"The vow would prevent the emissary from passing on to their side any information they acquire from the opposing side. The emissaries are neutral; they are only there to make sure no foul play takes place, and that the rules of the Alliance are upheld. However, if the rules of the vow are in danger of being violated, the emissaries must alert their side."

The Order received this with whispers and stares around the room. Hermione turned to Ginny who smiled at her in greeting; it was a tired smile that didn't reach her worried eyes.

"Does anyone volunteer for the job as emissary?"

Everyone instinctively turned towards Harry who stared straight on at Dumbledore. "I'll do it." The Order members muttered appreciatively; Dumbledore gave a nod.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Hermione said suddenly. All eyes turned towards her. "Harry's scar would act up all the time because of his proximity to Voldemort; I've witnessed first-hand the migraines he gets, and I can tell you he would lose his mind on the second day. We'd be sending him to the slaughterhouse."

There were murmurs of acquiescence. Harry frowned. "I'm sure there are potions I could take –"

"No, Harry, Hermione is right," Dumbledore said interrupting him. "I am afraid in this instance you would create more trouble than good. We need someone else; I was thinking maybe Kingsley?"

All eyes turned onto the black man who was seated next to Mr. Weasley.

"Shouldn't Kingsley stay at the Ministry, Albus?" Arthur said leaning forward onto his tented arms. "We can't just focus on You-Know-Who. We have to keep someone watching the Ministry's moves as well. Kingsley is the highest ranked in the Ministry out of all of us and the least compromised."

The table let out a sigh as Dumbledore acquiesced with a series of nods to Arthur's reasoning.

"I can go."

All eyes immediately zoomed towards Ginny's left where Hermione was seated. "I'll do it," she repeated a little more loudly. "I'll go."

"Are you crazy?" Ron said grabbing her by the arm in order to grab her attention. "There's no way you're going." He turned to Dumbledore. "She didn't mean it, professor."

Hermione huffed indignantly and wrenched her arm from his grip before standing up. "I want to go! I am old enough to make my own decisions; you can't order me around."

"Hermione, are you sure?" Dumbledore went on.

"I agree with Ron, professor," Harry said suddenly. "I don't think it's a good idea either. Who knows what he could do to her? She wouldn't stand a chance."

"Wouldn't stand a chance?" Hermione said, her voice high and infuriated. "Have you already forgotten, Harry, how many times I saved your ass from danger? Or the fact that I can defend myself just as well if not better than any of you?"

"Hermione, darling," Molly cut in warmly, "don't take it the wrong way; we're all just worried about you putting yourself in harm's way this readily. Especially with everything you have coming up! You haven't even started planning the wedding, yet, and I have some magazines full of wedding dresses you must see," she said excitedly as she got up. "I'll go get them."

Hermione stayed rooted to the spot; her countenance insulted and dazed.

"Hermione," Dumbledore said slowly, "are you sure you want to do this? You would have to live with them and would only see Ron and your family a few hours on weekends. I don't agree completely with Molly, but you do have to keep in mind that for someone in your situation being apart from their fiancé might not be the best thing for the relationship."

"Hermione and I will talk this over tonight, and she'll let you know tomorrow, professor," Ron said quickly before Hermione could reply. The brunette threw him a glare and defiantly turned away from him.

"No, professor, I haven't done anything for the Order thus far, and it's not like I have a job like everyone else. I have already made my choice. I will go _and that's final_," she added turning towards Ron whose scowl was so deeply pronounced it made his face appear mask-like.

"Alright then," Dumbledore said quietly giving Hermione a small smile, "it's settled."

Hermione turned away from her fiancé and gave Dumbledore a satisfied smile.

"So, Hermione, you will meet me here tomorrow evening. Any questions?"

Hermione shook her head. "No."

"Alright then," he said more cheerfully, "I shall see you all tomorrow, have a good night." He stood up and left the room. One by one, the Order members filed out; some went out the door, and others up to their rooms. The house was too small for all of them, but ever since the Order had been declared an enemy faction, a few of the Order members, including Harry, Arthur and Molly Weasley and Tonks were forced to move into Grimmauld Place after their allegiance to The Order was confirmed by the ministry and arrest warrants put out. Ron and Hermione were being watched very closely, and it was a miracle their arrest warrants hadn't been issued yet.

"Hermione, why are you doing this?" Ron snarled pulling her to the side as they made their way to the exit.

"What do you mean why? To help our cause!" Hermione hissed.

"Do you want to get away from me?"

Hermione snorted. "Ron, if I didn't want to be with you any longer I would give you back your ring, and just in case you haven't noticed, we are at war! Sacrifices have to be made, and so our relationship is going to have to suffer because right now, it is not about us, but about saving the world we live in; so you better change your childish attitude since it is not helping in the slightest!"

In a fury, Hermione went out the door followed by Ron. She ignored his calls and statements and apparated away in a hurry towards their home. She knew he would follow her, but hopefully she could ignore him long enough to pack away a few things and go spend the night at her parents' house.

* * *

Hermione never thought she would be impatient to meet with Voldemort. At times, she would catch herself staring at the clock; waiting for it to hit 8 pm. Hermione could've cared less with whom she was going so long as she was getting away. Lately, things had gotten to be too much to bear; it probably had to do with the stress of moving, Hermione thought, on top of everything else.

"Hermione, Ron is downstairs," her mother said peeking into her room.

"I am done talking to him. I'm going and that's final," Hermione replied closing her suitcase with more force than necessary.

"I think he just wants to say good-bye, but since your brought it up, darling, your father and I do think you should reconsider going . . . I am sure it is not too late for them to pick someone else."

"I'm not changing my mind," Hermione said while shrinking her suitcase and fitting it into her pocket, "and I'm still mad, so I'm not going down to talk to him. Say 'bye' to him for me."

"Hermione, he's your fiancé!"

"Which is why_ I_ choose how I deal with him!" Hermione snapped.

Jean fixed her with a cold stare. "Fine then, good-bye from all of us, and we'll see you when you come home." The door was slammed shut, and Hermione rolled her eyes before preparing to disapparate, she hoped Dumbledore would have a calming draught ready for her.

"Good evening, Hermione," Dumbledore muttered as said witch apparated at the corner of his office with a crack.

"Professor," she greeted and went towards him.

"So, they will be meeting us here now. Voldemort decided against meeting in the open," Dumbledore said while coming towards her, his silver robe rustling. Hermione nodded slowly and looked down at her black boots before letting out a yawn.

"How did you manage to convince Ronald to let you go?"

Hermione shook her head and looked up. "He's still against it; we had a fight, and I went to my parents' house last night."

Dumbledore's blue eyes gazed at her seriously. "Are you sure you want to jeopardize your engagement by going through with this?"

"If Ron doesn't respect my choices, then, obviously, this engagement is not worth going through," Hermione said shortly. "I'm pretty sure he'll come around by the time I come home, though."

Dumbledore nodded. "As always, your thinking is perfectly logical." Hermione smiled as Dumbledore went on, "We should go over some things before they come though, you will be taking a vow with Voldemort to ensure both of your well-beings; then, I will do the same with his emissary, and we will part ways. Once you are with him, you will administer a group vow to his inner circle to ensure that they uphold the armistice until the current regime goes under, at which time both sides would go back to being enemies. Is that understood?"

Hermione nodded while watching Dumbledore summon an unassuming box from his desk from which he extracted a pair of earrings

"If you are ever in danger, these will let me know so I can come help you," Dumbledore said handing Hermione the small, faux-diamond studs.

"Thank you," she said and immediately put them on, her eyes staring at the roaring fire in the hearth. Just then, her view was obscured by black robes materializing from thin air; Hermione snapped her eyes up and onto those of the infamous Dark Lord.

"You can't be serious, Dumbledore," the Dark Lord snapped leaving Bellatrix's side and going up to the headmaster. "Seeing as how this was your plan, I would think you would take it seriously."

"I am afraid I'm not following," Dumbledore replied icily.

Voldemort nodded towards Hermione. "She's a child. I may have agreed to bring no harm onto your emissary, but I never said I would be babysitting them."

"I'm not a child!" Hermione snapped as painful memories from last night's Order meeting came up. "I can defend myself just fine, ask Bellatrix; she was at the Department of Mysteries when my schoolmates and I defeated your inner circle!"

Hermione knew by the silence that followed that she should learn to keep her temper in check. Dumbledore wasn't even looking at her; he was staring down at the carpet over his glasses while Bellatrix glared daggers at her from the corner.

"What a hubristic batch you're rearing, Albus," Voldemort sneered, "now I understand why intelligence seems to be lacking in Potter's generation."

Hermione had to bite her bottom lip to prevent herself from going on another rant at this insult. At seeing her lack of a response, Voldemort gave a sideways smirk and made his way towards the bar in the corner. "Or maybe there is still a glimmer of hope for intelligence." Hermione watched as the Dark Lord poured himself a drink like he was at home; he didn't even turn when Dumbledore began addressing him.

"Well, apparently mental clarity is not the only thing disappearing with age, Albus," Voldemort drawled while swirling a glass of red wine and turning to look at his old teacher. "First, you don't even offer me a drink, and then while I am helping myself to one, you bombard me with business talk? Where are your manners?"

Albus sighed. "I'm not going to argue with you, Thomas. Like you said last time, we are not here to socialize."

Voldemort waited to finish his drink before replying, "Albus, if you continue to talk this way, I'm going to start thinking you're displeased with my presence."

Hermione had to stop herself from rolling her eyes; the Dark Lord was really more annoying than dangerous. Dumbledore didn't reply and looked at Voldemort with stony eyes.

The Dark lord sighed obnoxiously and set his empty glass down on the side table before coming back towards the center of the room. "You would think you two would be in a better mood, after all this alliance is to your benefit. But, sure, let's do the vows."

"It's to your benefit, too, Tom," Dumbledore corrected, "after all, you are probably going to find a way to use our closeness to recruit information."

"That didn't even cross my mind," Voldemort replied, looking at Dumbledore with a haughty smile while coming to stand in front of Hermione who glanced wearily at Dumbledore. She was about to back off, when she saw Bellatrix coming towards the professor in the fashion as the Dark Lord had. Hermione's eyes settled on his extended hand, elegantly long fingers curved invitingly. Hermione stalled for a moment before finally taking his surprisingly warm hand.

"I will say the vow first; then you repeat it word by word except for my name," the Dark Lord told her staring at her eyes intently.

"Okay," Hermione answered, trying to make her voice as confident as his.

"I swear I will not harm you, kill you or try to kill you so long as our sides remain friendly," he said slowly just as their hands glowed pink and hot. He stopped and looked expectantly at Hermione.

"I swear I will not harm you, kill you or try to kill you so long as our sides remain friendly," she said with a slight frown. Had she gotten all the words right?

"And thus, I Lord Voldemort, born Tom Marvolo Riddle take this magical vow," he said, and nodded at Hermione to repeat those words.

"I, Hermione Jean Granger, take this magical vow." As soon as the final word left her mouth, the pink glow, which had been becoming brighter with each word issued, suddenly disappeared into their linked hands. The office was quiet for a few seconds after the disappearance of the light, and then Voldemort let go of her hand as he looked at the palm of his own. He smirked and held it out to Hermione. "The scar will remain there until our vow is no longer needed."

Hermione looked at her own hand and noticed the same pink scar running diagonally across her palm. Dumbledore and Bellatrix performed the vow next while Hermione and Voldemort watched, neither one looking nor talking to the other. Once they were done, Dumbledore turned to Voldemort and Hermione.

"Now that that's done, we must part ways," he said looking at Hermione intently. "Take care, Ms. Granger and see you soon."

"Thank you, professor," Hermione replied, her heart beating faster than it had all night. She gave a startled shiver when Voldemort put his arm around her waist. Before she could figure out what was going on, they were leaving the professor's office.


	2. Chapter 2

To Darknessinshadows, jessirose85, lady lucius malfoy, ankoku dezaia, irulana and furysphere: Hope this update was fast enough! And thanks for your enthusiasm. Oh and Eli! I was so honored with your words, I absolutely love your stuff! So for you to be telling me you liked my writing is quite an honor.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not make any money from these writings.

* * *

Next thing Hermione knew, they landed on a creaking hardwood floor. Voldemort's arm immediately came off her body, leaving Hermione even more confused.

"What – where are we?"

"We just apparated, I trust that's a concept you are familiar with?" he replied snappily. Hermione felt a sting at his verbal slicing, but was still too confused to care. One moment they had been at the professor's office, and, in the blink of an eye, at Little Hangleton? Where had the whirlwind of images, the crack, and the squeezing sensation that usually came with apparating and disapparating gone?

"For advanced wizards like myself, those nuisances are nonexistent," Voldemort replied snidely, "of course with the riff raff you surround yourself with, I wouldn't have expected you to know about such refined practices."

"Refined practices for you being butchering, raping and killing coming from the crowd _you _surround yourself with?" Hermione replied just as smugly.

Voldemort sniffed. "You're a cute kid, but don't get much cuter lest you want to _accidentally_ find yourself locked in a room with werewolves on a full moon." His hand reached towards the knob of a door they were in front of and turned it, Hermione looked in and saw a bedroom. "This will be your room. Tomorrow morning I will come get you so we can go to a meeting, and you can do the vow on everyone. As for tonight, a house elf will bring you dinner. Have a good night."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked down the chandelier–lit corridor. Hermione watched him go until he turned a corner, and she then made her way into what was to be her room. It was bigger than her childhood bedroom, heck, it was even bigger than her and Ron's bedroom! But of course, Hermione reasoned as she sat down on the bed, she'd never lived in a mansion. The next few minutes were spent unpacking and organizing her closet until she was interrupted by a small knock on the door.

"Come in," she called out as she folded her multi-colored scarf.

Hermione turned around just as a house elf came in carrying a tray of food; it went up to Hermione's bed and, with a snap of his fingers, a small table appeared onto which he placed the tray with care.

"Thank you," Hermione said with a smile. The house elf looked startled at first due to her overt friendliness, but soon recovered and made a bow before disappearing. Hermione walked up to the wooden table and took the silver lid off the plate: pieces of meat in a dark brown sauce and mashed potatoes awaited her. Hermione sat down on the bed and got ready to eat the tasty bouef bourguignon. Once she was finished, she went back to unpacking and got ready for bed. Tomorrow was going to be a long day . . . .

* * *

The next morning, Hermione was woken up by the same house elf, whose name she learned was Laurie and was asked to get ready so that she could be escorted to the Dark Lord.

"By what time?" Hermione asked as she got out of bed, "I want to take a shower."

"Later, miss, later, please!" the house elf said rushing out. Hermione felt bad at seeing the poor elf fretting about her making Voldemort wait, but how was she to go out in public with her hair the way it was? Throwing herself a disgusted glance in the mirror, Hermione pulled her hair back into a ponytail and did a few charms to give her locks more definition. She then changed into brown corduroy bellbottom pants and a fuschia turtleneck. Just as she was applying concealer on a painful cold sore, there was a knock.

"Ah…" Hermione looked at the door; she had been about to say 'come in', but what if it was someone she didn't know? "Who is it?"

"The Dark Lord sent me to bring you to him," a man's voice said from behind the door. _He didn't sound very friendly,_ Hermione thought as she stood up, hands twisting.

"Are you a Death Eater?"

"No, I'm the fucking prime minister," the man replied, there was a snort and a laugh from a second man.

Hermione blushed and looked around uneasily. "I'm coming," she found herself saying, cheeks still burning. Why was she acting so stupid? A few seconds later, after taking a few calming breaths, she emerged from the room to meet her escorts: two masked Death Eaters.

"Sorry, I made you wait," Hermione said trying to sound polite.

"It's not us you have to worry about making wait," the Death Eater to the left said as the other motioned for her to go down the hallway. Hermione felt a pang of uneasiness at having her back to two Death Eaters, but she did as she was told. To ease her worries, Hermione entertained herself by taking in the décor of the hallway: it was opulent and warm, with carpeted wooden floors, chandeliers on the ceilings and paintings lining the walls. Certainly not what she would've expected the Dark Lord's home to look like.

"Stop," one of the Death Eaters told her suddenly. Hermione's breath caught in her throat, what were they going to do to her? Then, she noticed that there was a grand mahogany door to her left which she figured was the Dark Lord's office. One of the Death Eaters knocked, and Hermione was relieved to hear Voldemort's voice bidding them in. The brunette couldn't help but be amused at the thought of Voldemort's voice having become something to look forward to hearing; of course in her circumstance, it made sense since he was the only one under a vow not to harm her.

"You may leave us," the Dark Lord told his followers who bowed and left while closing the door with a silent click. Hermione fell quiet as she waited for him to begin talking; however, he seemed to be more interested in looking at her with a slightly creased brow. After a few seconds of him staring her up and down, Hermione fidgeted and parted her lips to speak, but then his haughty voice surfaced.

"We are going to a meeting after breakfast."

"Oh, okay," Hermione said amiably. She smiled.

He did not return the gesture.

"Okay, so you will be changing then? I will allow you to wear that for breakfast, but you will change for the meeting unless you don't want anyone to take you seriously."

Hermione was taken back by his snarky comment; she looked herself up and down.

"What's wrong with my clothes?"

He sniffed and cocked an eyebrow. "Brown corduroy pants with a fuschia turtleneck and black shoes? Does that even _sound_ appealing?"

"Well… I," Hermione looked herself up and down again, her outfit matched. _Wasn't that what was important?_

"No, it does not," he stated flatly while coming towards her, "your outfit would only suit a child, and if you insist on being called a woman, then you better start dressing like one."

"So what am I supposed to wear?" Hermione replied a little forcefully. Since when was her style any of his concern?

"Well, since you are obviously a lost cause, a black robe would do."

"Fine," Hermione snapped with a sigh, her hands digging into her pockets.

"Don't get fresh with me," he said, eyes cold and penetrating. "Just because I took a vow not to hurt you doesn't mean I can't inflict pain upon you through other ways."

"Are you threatening me?" Hermione replied more out of instinct than rationale.

He glided over to her, hands behind his back causing Hermione to begin growing uneasy. Did he have his wand behind him? How did she activate the earrings when she was in danger? Hermione tried to look calm as he stopped in front of her and whispered, "I don't threaten, I warn." He smirked and laid a hand on her back; Hermione's breath constricted at this violation of her space, but she decided against complaining. Hermione was sure now that no matter how many vows Voldemort yook to prevent him from hurting her, if he really wanted to, he would find a way to bypass them.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked in her best attempt at a casual tone as they walked down the hall.

"Breakfast, I told you."

"Is anyone else going to be there?"

"If that were the case, I wouldn't have let you go as you are," he replied throwing another derisive look at Hermione's outfit. The brunette pressed her lips together and decided against saying anything. Fashion for Hermione had always been something other people cared about because as far as she was concerned, fashion consisted of making sure she wore matching socks and clean attire.

"How can you be so concerned with fashion if you're always wearing black robes?" Hermione said suddenly, shyly looking up at him. He sniffed and smirked.

"What makes you think I constantly wear black robes?"

"I guess because we've always seen you wearing them," Hermione muttered, she couldn't even picture the Dark Lord in anything other than black robes.

"Well, I'm not going to wear my best in battle," he replied, "not that any of your horrendously directed curses would ever and have ever hit me . . . ."

Hermione sniffed humorously, a minute later she scolded herself. Why was she laughing at an insult directed towards her side?

"It's always good to have a sense of humor about oneself," he said, once more reading her thoughts as they reached a small dining hall. It was decorated in Victorian fashion with a predominantly light color palette except for the rich mahogany furniture. It was very unlike the Dark Lord.

"This is the morning hall," he explained, "and just in case you are wondering, the house was like this when I got it. I am not the one to blame for the decoration."

"It's nice," Hermione said earnestly as she looked at the floor-length windows which had the curtains drawn so as to allow the sun to bathe the mahogany table loaded down with freshly-made breakfast food. "However, it is unexpected, I admit."

He took a silent seat and motioned for her to eat. "Please."

Hermione sat down gingerly. "Why me first?" Only after the words left her mouth did Hermione realize that her thoughts of poisoning were misguided, he had taken a vow after all. Voldemort stared at her dryly.

"I wouldn't have thought basic etiquette would be a concept foreign to you, but then again, you are no lady," he said reaching over for toast and placing it on his plate along with scrambled eggs, "so I should've known the usual 'ladies first' wouldn't apply to you."

"Are you always this sarcastic?" Hermione replied, exasperated but amused at the same time.

He shrugged one shoulder in tune with a raised eyebrow while sipping from a cup of tea. "I am British."

Hermione stared at him for a moment and then sniffed humorously before looking down at her empty plate. "Yes, you truly are the epitome of dry humor." She served herself orange juice and reached for bread and ham to make herself a sandwich.

"Dumbledore wants us to concoct a potion for him," Voldemort said without looking up.

"What potion?" Hermione said looking up.

"You don't know it, it's dark."

Hermione placed a hand over her full mouth before speaking. "Can you tell me about it?"

He didn't reply for he was busy chewing; Hermione took advantage of his silence and swallowed her food, just as he did the same.

"It's the Imperius curse in a potion. It is tedious and advanced for someone your age," he said shooting her a red glance, "but Dumbles . . ." his voice was tainted with fake affection, "was adamant about your capabilities, and convinced me to give you a chance to prove yourself to me." He gave her a tight-lipped, nonchalant smile. "So, no pressure."

Hermione swallowed loudly and stared at him with slightly perplexed eyes. "He said I was capable of that? I haven't even mastered the Imperius curse, how am I supposed to work on the potion form of it?"

"Not my problem, take it up with the beacon of all that is fair and true." He smirked again, red eyes shining humorously as he sipped the remains of his tea.

"Thanks for the sarcasm," Hermione replied mirroring his mirthful countenance.

"Well," he said with a fake smile, "glad to see you're catching on, Granger, at least your conversational skills are moving up to the level at which they should've been. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for your fashion ones."

Hermione rouged slightly. Voldemort smirked and stood up from the table.

"The meeting begins at 11. Once you are done stuffing your face, go up to your room; make yourself mildly presentable, and make sure you are ready by 10:50 am."

He disapparated.

* * *

Hermione shuddered as the cool breeze of multiple apparations hit her body like waves breaking on rocks. Voldemort, taciturn as usual, gazed over the black Death Eater shapes like a shepherd over his herd.

"Is it just your inner circle?" Hermione asked silently as the men came forward and began forming a circle around them.

"Yes," he said, lips barely moving, his eyes on his followers, "they will each administer the vow to their units. Otherwise, it would take too long . . . what with all the followers I have now," he finished with a small smile, smugness interlaced in his voice as he threw a glance down at Hermione who fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"Good morning, gentlemen," he uttered as the half-circle around them finished forming. "Today we will have a very short meeting because, as you all know, you will only be taking a vow which will be administered by Ms. Granger." Hermione fixed her eyes on an antique mirror at the far-off end of the brightly-lit hall as she felt the Death Eater's eyes shifting onto her. "You will then be responsible for administering that same vow to your units, and you will report to me when that is done," he looked down at Hermione and met his red gaze with Hermione's brown one, "this way Dumbledore knows that I've upheld _my_ end of the deal." She gave him a single nod. He stepped back from her side, hands clasped behind his back as he returned her nod. "I advise you to start right away, Ms. Granger, these are busy men with high-ranked posts who can't afford to leave their offices in the care of their inept Order member employees."

The Death Eaters laughed raucously, and Hermione, standing by herself in front of wizards who were looking her up and down like snakes sizing up their victim, was too nervous to glare at the Dark Lord.

"I have a magical contract that Dumbledore and the Dark Lord crafted," Hermione said unrolling a scroll, "I will read the vow, and then you can all come up, sign and take a contract scroll for your units to whom you will apply the same procedure as I did to you." Hermione sighed silently as she willed the flush on her cheeks to leave, " 'By signing this contract, I am agreeing to uphold the truce between The Order of the Phoenix and Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters as per the term set by both sides' leaders. I will not plot against the opposing side during this time and will work for a common goal unless it has been shown that the other side violated a term of contract. I also agree, during this time, not to harm the opposing sides' members or the arbitrator in any way unless my person is at stake.' "

Hermione looked up when she finished so as to see their reaction; however, they were all wearing their Death Eater masks; so she was faced with a little over a dozen poker faces. Hermione conjured up a simple wooden table in front of her where she placed the rolled-up contract scrolls piled up next to the contract she'd read from; a quill by its side and stepped back. The group of Death Eaters seemed very hesitant to be the first one to go up, their masks tilted slightly from side to side as they dared each other to go ahead.

"We wouldn't want Ms. Granger to take your hesitance as a threat, my Death Eaters," Voldemort drawled as he walked up to where Hermione was standing, his footsteps muffled by the silk-woven Persian rugs on the floor. That seemed to do the trick, as if to please their master, the men all stepped up at once and hastily fell into a line.

Hermione watched on silently as names were added onto the list, and she wondered why they had worn their masks if they knew they were going to be taking a vow and divulging their name. Not to mention that she knew at least half his inner circle. . . speaking of, Hermione thought trying not to let her eyes widen as an idea came into mind, after the inner circle administered the vow to the troops, she would have a list of every Death Eater! Those lists had to be sent out to Dumbledore and then – but Voldemort would never make such a big oversight, Hermione's rational mind offered. Clearly, he must have something in mind . . . . Once all the names were down, and the last Death Eater had gone back into the semi-circle, Hermione reached out for the scroll only to be beaten to it by Voldemort who took the scroll and rolled it up. He gave her a smirk.

"You didn't think you were going to be getting a roster of my followers now did you?"

"I need to send that to Dumbledore," Hermione interjected.

"And you will," Voldemort said as he placed his wand against it and muttered a charm before letting it come unrolled, a glowing number '16' shone underneath the vow where all the names had previously been. "Dumbledore doesn't need to know the identities of the signers, only that they have signed and that his emissary was a witness to it and can attest to its validity." He handed the scroll to her.

"I won't be overseeing them when they give the vow to their units though," Hermione said.

"I have already told Dumbledore under oath that I have 16 units each with 25 members plus my inner circle 16. When they each give me the signed contract from their unit, I will translate the names into a number like you saw me do, and that is what I will give to you."

Hermione looked uncertainly at him. "Dumbledore never mentioned this."

"Then owl him. You'll see I'm not lying," the Dark Lord replied swiftly, "after all, what have I gained from this alliance thus far? Nothing, so why would I want to end it?"

Hermione gave a stiff nod and made a mental note to write the headmaster a letter as soon as she got to her room.


	3. Chapter 3

ATTENTION AUTHOR'S NOTE

So, this will be my last update this month as I will be going to Greece on vacation this Monday. That's why I tried to write a substantive and somewhat long chappie for you guys; so I hope you reward me with lots of reviews, as that would be the best homecoming gift when I finally go on my computer after my trip and find lots of review alerts!

- Thank to everyone who reviewed! Mybutterflyshavesocksonthem, nolongeramember2009, yew wand, takara410, n, eli, eyesthatarewindowstothesoul, sweet-tang-honey.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not make any money from these writings.

* * *

"'The potion is to simmer no more than 60 minutes, but no less than 45. . . .'" Hermione looked up. "So how long _is it_ supposed to simmer for?"

"Depends how potent you want it to be," Voldemort replied absentmindedly as he stared at his nails with a frown; he was leaning back against the table where a charmed knife was cutting up herbs and roots.

"Okay, but why couldn't the author put in a chart or something with the levels of potency along with the time it would need to simmer for each? That would be a lot more helpful than ' no more than 60 but no less than 45'," Hermione finished sounding exasperated.

"First off, calm down. Secondly, this isn't a Hogwarts' level book; it's not going to lead you by the hand on each potion. You're supposed to be above that already, ready to discover things on your own and not limit yourself to following directions."

"I like to have instructions laid out because then I know that if I follow them carefully, I will get the result promised," Hermione said, stubbornness lining her voice.

He stared at her with a derisive, but sad smile on his face; he went back to looking at his nails. "So you're _that_ type of bookworm . . . ."

Hermione placed her hand on her hip. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm a bookworm,too," he said as he finally looked up from his hands and at her, "but I don't let the books tell me what to do. I read up, take ideas from each book and then come up with my own understanding." He sighed and shrugged a shoulder. "Not that being your type of bookworm is a bad thing; it will make you an extremely adept bureaucrat, a textbook's definition of a nine to five ministry worker." He smirked, and Hermione felt his sting once more. Just when she was going to refute his statement, there was a knock on the door. The Dark Lord went towards it and opened it as he stuck his head out. Hermione watched curiously and tried to catch what he was saying, but just then, he closed the door and turned to her.

"I have to go; I'll be back in twenty minutes."

"But I haven't figured any of this out! You're supposed to help me," Hermione said.

He rolled his eyes. "And you're supposed to be the most intelligent witch of your age? My, how the bar has been lowered since _I _was at Hogwarts . . . there are three levels of potency, and the time for each can be found using simple arithmetic with the two numbers given. There, you've been spoon-fed the solution, now can your bureaucratic mind swallow that, or do I have to do that for it as well?" Without waiting for an answer, he walked out and slammed the door. Hermione watched the shut door with glaring eyes and then turned back to the book in front of her. She had never felt more insulted in her life.

"Three levels of potency . . . " she muttered while scribbling on a piece of paper, "two numbers . . . ."

_The two numbers were 45 and 60_, Hermione reasoned as she wrote those down, _so 45 would be the lowest potency and 60 the highest. 60 minus 45 was 15 so . . . that divided by the two was . . ._

"7.5. Increments of 7.5 . . ."

Hermione smiled as relief came over her at knowing she had solved the problem: 45 is the lowest level of potency, then 52.5 for medium and 60 for the maximum.

"Excellent . . ." she muttered while scribbling it down. Next, Hermione looked over the long list of ingredients; it covered a full two pages. How could he expect her to figure out this complex a potion? _Actually_, Hermione though correcting herself, _it wasn't Voldemort that was to blame, it was Dumbledore!_ _What was he thinking telling Voldemort that I'm capable of brewing a potion like this?_

Hermione made a silent reminder to bring this up to Dumbledore when she reported to him that day.

For the next forty minutes, Hermione read the potion instructions in their entirety and wrote down everything she didn't understand so that she could ask Voldemort about it when he got back .

_Speaking of . . . ._Hermione looked up at the clock, he had been gone almost an hour, and he'd said he would be back in twenty minutes. Hermione started feeling a little uneasy as thoughts of him plotting against them began ebbing into her mind. He had taken a vow though, so he was prohibited from doing that . . . but he was the Dark Lord, and how could she be sure that he wasn't figuring out a way to break the contract? After all, he had been very mysterious when he had been called, almost as if he didn't want Hermione to know who was at the other side of the door. With a wrinkled brow, Hermione stood up from the couch she had set about dissecting the potion instructions in and began walking towards the door. She wasn't sure where to begin looking for him though, she didn't really know her way around the mansion that well, and she didn't want to get lost. Plus, it would look suspicious if she was seen wandering around by herself. . . _maybe his office_, Hermione thought as she neared the door. However, just when the brunette was about to reach out for the handle, the door was opened and the object of her fretting swooped in.

"Where were you going?" Voldemort asked her, his wrinkled forehead matching hers in all but coloring.

"To look for you, it's been an hour . . ." Hermione said.

"And?" he snapped, "telling you the span of time I'd be gone was a courtesy, not a requirement."

"I know!" Hermione said raising her voice at him slightly, "I just started worrying because – well, as the messenger from the light side, I'm supposed to make sure you abide by the terms of the alliance, and if you go off all mysterious and in a hurry, well. . ." Hermione widened her eyes and made a few hand motions, "you know, I was worried you would try to find a way to break the contract or something . . . ."

"I am under a vow, Ms. Granger," he said curtly, red eyes penetrating and intense, "get that through your head."

He swooped past her and towards the table; when he didn't see the book there, he turned towards the couch from where he picked it up along with her notes. Slowly, Hermione walked up to him feeling like a dog with its tail between its legs.

She could see his eyes zigzagging down her list of inquires; once he was done, he put the list back in the book and closed it before putting it on the table.

"You've made enough progress for today," he told her, "but now you have to go to the Order; it's almost six. I have the signed contracts from my units here," he handed her a bag with 16 scrolls rolled up that he charmed out of his pocket, "and the fireplace has been enabled to allow you to floo to your morning be ready to go by 10 am at which time the floo will become enabled once more. Have a good evening, and I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast." He turned on his heel and walked across the room until he was out the door. Hermione watched him go for a moment and then shook her head as she went towards the fireplace and took some floo from the pot on the mantle, _that man!_

As soon as Hermione had stepped out of the fireplace, she thought about stepping back in; unfortunately, Molly Weasley was faster and threw her arms around her future daughter-in-law, hugging Hermione as tight as her arms would allow.

"Darling, how have you been? Did he feed you enough?"

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but Molly beat her to it.

"Oh, of course he didn't! Look at you, so pallid and thin!" She hugged her again.

"Molly, it's only been two days that I was with them," Hermione said as she pried her body from her future mother-in-law's arms, "and I was fed alright, so I really doubt I've lost weight in two days." Hermione finished with an amused smile.

Molly shook her head. "You look thinner." She then went out of the room just as Ron, Ginny and Remus entered. "I'll make you a nice hearty meal," Molly called out on her way to her culinary realm.

"Hermione," Ron said hugging her and giving her a kiss. "How are you? How did it go?"

Hermione smiled. "It was fine. I didn't feel in danger or anything."

"Are those the contracts?" Remus asked looking at the scrolls within the bag Hermione had on her shoulder.

"Oh yeah," she said and shrugged off the bag which Remus reached for.

"I'll give these to Albus," he said with a warm smile, "I'll be back in a little while."

Hermione gave a nod and focused her eyes once more on the two redheads who were now ushering her towards the sofa.

"We have about 10 minutes before the meeting," Ginny said taking her hands in hers, "so tell us everything."

"Well . . ." Hermione began, at a loss of where to start, not that much had gone on in two days yet Ginny and Ron looked like they were expecting her to share a four hour, Homeric epic. "I was only there for two days, so not that much stuff went on. We just began working on a potion Dumbledore requested today; it's very advanced so that took all afternoon . . . and . . ." Hermione shrugged and smiled nervously, "that's really all that's happened."

"How did he treat you?" Ginny went on, a sober look on her freckled countenance. Ron leaned in as if afraid to miss anything Hermione might say.

"Fine, I have a nice, big room and access to the library; he treats me with respect and hasn't made me feel uncomfortable or endangered," Hermione said with a slight frown. What had they expected? That she be strung up on a wall in the dungeons?

"Only because he's on a vow," Ron spat.

"Well, obviously," Hermione interjected and fought the urge to roll her eyes. It seemed age had matured everything, but Ron's brain. She turned to Ginny

"So what about Bellatrix?"

The redhead shrugged. "She's just what you could expect, cocky, annoying and a little touched in the head."

Hermione sniffed humorously at this description. "Yes, they certainly possess a certain personality, these dark wizards."

"Stays to herself most of the time, though," Ron said, "she even takes her meals in her room. The only times we see her are during Order meetings."

"Is it the same with you?" Ginny asked.

"Pretty much," Hermione blurted out while nodding and throwing a glance at Ron; she didn't think it wise to tell them she'd been eating her meals alone with Him.

"Ron, Hermione, Ginny, the meeting is starting," Remus said, standing at the doorframe. Hermione stood up along with Ron and Ginny and followed Remus.

"Now you'll get to see what we've had to put up with," Ron muttered taking Hermione's hand in his. She frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Bellatrix is going to be at this meeting," Ron said. Hermione scrunched her forehead.

"I thought she would go back to the dark side to report to Volde – You-Know-Who, sorry," she said at the frown on both Weasley's faces, "just like me with Dumbledore."

"She already went to him," Ginny said, "she came back like twenty minutes ago . . . ."

Hermione stopped in her tracks and turned to Ginny. "Really?"

Both redheads nodded. "Why?" Ron asked, "You didn't see her?"

"No, You-Know-Who and I were working on a potion, and someone knocked at the door; he went to talk to them and then told me he would be back in twenty minutes, but it ended up taking him like an hour. When he came back, he got really defensive when I asked him where he'd been. He never answered me, though."

"We have to tell Dumbledore, then," Ron hissed, "See? I knew he would try something! They were probably plotting against us –"

"Aren't they both under vows, though?" Ginny said, "even if they tried, they couldn't plan anything to harm us . . ."

"That's what he said," Hermione said with a series of nods.

"Well, clearly he must be hiding something because otherwise why leave you out of it? You are supposed to listen in on every single one of his meetings," Ron said.

"So, if they weren't planning the Order's demise and clearly weren't talking Death Eater business because otherwise that would've been a violation of the vow since I wasn't present . . . what else could they have been doing?"

Almost as soon as the last sentence left her lips, Hermione knew her answer. "Oh god," she muttered closing her eyes.

"That's disgusting," Ginny muttered bringing her hand to her forehead.

"What are you guys moaning about?" Ron said looking annoyed at being left out of their discovery.

"You-Know-Who and Bellatrix together," Ginny said with a sigh.

"You think?" Ron said with a frown.

"It's the only option that makes sense," Hermione said somewhat snappishly.

Ron shrugged while they all stood up and made their way towards the meeting room.

"Well, there was always that rumor going around . . . ."

They all fell quiet when they ran into the other Order Members entering the meeting room, Hermione could see the headmaster was in his seat already and waiting for the room to fill up.

"Hermione," Dumbledore greeted as she and the two Weasleys slowly entered and took their seats next to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley who saved them a spot. "Glad to see you are here with us and in good health."

Hermione smiled and gave a single nod. "Thank you for your concern."

"Would you mind recounting your experiences these past two days?" the headmaster asked, bringing his hands down from the pyramid they'd been in, to lay flat on the wooden surface. As soon as he finished speaking, all eyes went from him to Hermione who, once more, felt pressured to provide non-existing details.

"Well, I attended just one meeting in which they signed the contracts," she turned to Dumbledore and added, "which I trust Remus gave to you," he nodded, "and I trust you also got my letter about him changing the names into numbers and letting the inner circle administer the vow without my presence?"

Dumbledore nodded once more. "We did agree to that."

"How could you have agreed to that?" Ron interceded, a deep frown etched on his forehead; the other Order members wore similar emotions.

"He confided under a vow that he had 16 units of 25 Death Eaters each plus the inner circle 16. I checked the contracts and the numbers add up," Dumbledore's tone carried a note of finality which put the argument and the Order members to rest. "Did you begin working on the Imperius potion?"

"Yes, I read the instructions and dissected them until I came to an understanding of it. It's probably the most complicated potion I have ever seen," Hermione added looking around at everyone.

"Did Voldemort help you?" Dumbledore went on.

"Dark Lord," Bellatrix said, breaking her silence from the corner she was sitting in.

"We will refer to him however we please, Bellatrix," Dumbledore said looking at the woman over his glasses. The Death Eater in question allowed her chair to swing forth, landing with a clatter on its two-front legs. "Dark Lord is the proper and respectful way to address his lordship."

"We don't respect him," Arthur said slowly, frustration lining his tone, "we've been over this."

"I don't respect _him_, yet I still call him how he wants to be called," Bellatrix replied motioning towards the headmaster who put his head down on his propped hands. Hermione stared at her and then at the Order members who looked like they wanted to bash her skull in.

"She's been like this every single meeting we've had," Ron whispered to Hermione, who nodded in understanding and allowed herself a minute smile; it was kind of funny when you thought about it. When she looked up at Bellatrix, she couldn't help but rouge and look away with a tight-lipped smile as memories of her conversation with Ginny came to mind. Hermione gave the redhead a meaningful look which Ginny returned with a shudder; Hermione sniffed humorously and looked down at her hands.

"As I was saying," Dumbledore went on finally raising his head off his fists, "Hermione, did he help you?"

"Yes, somewhat, but he mostly left it to my digression seeing as how he was told that I was more than capable of handling the potion on my own." At his question, Hermione's previously humored mood disappeared, and she couldn't help but add a little sting to her words, the corner of Dumbledore's mouth twisted slightly up.

"I have confidence in you, Hermione."

"If only that were enough."

"Wait, what are you talking about?" Ron asked leaning forwards and looking from the headmaster to his fiancée.

"I informed Lord Voldemort of Hermione's great capabilities, and she is bent on denying them," Dumbledore replied.

"No," Hermione slowly stated while looking below at the rectangle her arms were forming on the table, "I am bent on bringing them down to a realistic scale."

Dumbledore stared at her silently and then gave a slight nod. "As you wish."

The rest of the meeting went by pretty uneventfully; Hermione was nearly invisible as Bellatrix once more found it in her to correct them for disrespecting her lord, a feat which took up about 10 minutes and ended with Bill Weasley trying to hex said Death Eater which resulted in him facing the consequences of having attempted to go against the vow.

Bellatrix leaned back and laughed giddily as Molly, Kingsley and Arthur examined the nasty burn mark on Bill's wrist.

"Alright, I think this is as good a place as any to end the meeting," Dumbledore said standing up rapidly, frustration leaking out of the cracks in his normally calm voice.

"What could he possibly see in her?" Hermione wondered aloud as she, Ron and Ginny walked towards the door.

"What could she possibly see in him?" Ginny responded as they reached the threshold.

"Good point," Hermione replied with a humorous sniff.

"They are both fucked up; so why wouldn't they be with each other?" Ron said. Ginny and Hermione laughed silently before falling quiet.

"Ginny. Where's Harry?" Hermione asked suddenly.

"He's out on a mission for Dumbledore . . . collecting Horcruxes," Ginny responded moving in closer to her brother and future sister-in-law, "you have to keep it quiet though, no one else in the Order knows, and Dumbledore doesn't even know I know; so, keep it a secret."

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, no problem. Did Harry tell you where he was going?"

Ginny nodded. "Yes, he confided in me"

Hermione's smile widened. "So, are you guys having a secret little thing going, then?"

Ginny shook her head, her forehead scrunched up. "Oh no, no . . . we're just friends, like always."

"Yeah right," Hermione said with a smile and looked up at Ron who had placed his arm around her waist.

"I've told Ginny that she has my permission to date Harry, but for some reason, they're still not together."

Ginny huffed and crossed her arms giving her brother a derisive stare. "Your permission? I don't need your permission to date anyone; even if I'm your little sister," she added just as he opened his mouth to say something.

"Well, maybe when he gets back then, huh?" Hermione cut in.

Ginny shook her head slightly as she opened the door for them. "Oh no . . . I don't really think of Harry that way. He's like a brother to me."

"You can't be serious Ginny," Hermione said, "you've been crushing on him since before you even started Hogwarts."

She shrugged. "Not anymore."

"Is there someone else?" Ron asked suddenly as he and Hermione started going out the door and into the cold.

Ginny shook her head. "Of course not, have a good night, okay? And Hermione please take care and write to me."

Hermione nodded. "Bye Ginny!"

"She was a little defensive with that conversation," Ron commented as they walked towards the street corner in order to Apparate.

"Uhm… you think she has a secret boyfriend?" Hermione asked amused.

He shrugged as they came to a stop under a lamppost. "She'd better not." They stopped talking for a minute as they got ready to Disapparate; once they had willed their destinations and arrived at their flat, Hermione and Ron took off their coats and made their way towards their darkened bedroom. The lights switched on as they entered, and Hermione sat down on the bed; removed her shoes and then fell back onto the covers, eyes closed.

"Tired?"

"Yeah," Hermione responded without opening her eyes, "that potion was ghastly and just having to think about making it is enough to make me even more tired."

She heard him sniff humorously and then walk towards her; the bed dipped, and she felt him lay down, his fingers playing with her hair.

"Herms?"

"Hmm?"

"I really missed you."

Hermione opened her eyes and smiled sweetly. "That's very sweet, I missed you, too."

He gave her a quick kiss. "I spoke with Dumbledore," Ron went on, "And he said you can still pull out of this mission. He said Kingsley volunteered, and that everything would go along well, and –"

Hermione propped herself up on her elbows just as her fiancé sat up.

"Ron, I told you already I am not pulling out."

"But Hermione, I am not comfortable with you being involved with this," he went on, "we're engaged, and I don't want you spending all this time away from me. I talked with my mom, and she agrees that this could drive us apart!"

"You know what, Ron? Apart from helping the Order and ensuring a bright future for our children and future generations, I see this as a chance to see just how solid we are as a couple. Because, seeing as how we are going to get married, we should be pretty solid, but the way you're acting it's as if you felt we were on thin ice!"

"It's not about our strength as a couple, Hermione, I trust you, but it's them I don't trust!" Ron said raising his voice, "You've put yourself in the eye of the hurricane so how can you not expect me to be worried?"

"You can't trust me if you don't think I'm capable of defending myself!" she yelled at him.

"This is You-Know-Who we're talking about, Hermione!" Ron said matching her tone, "This isn't Malfoy and his goons or some petty wizard you run into in the back alleys of Knockturn Alley! This is the fucking Dark Lord, and he could end your life with the same ease he would a fly's!"

"WE ARE UNDER A VOW!"

"HE'LL FIND A WAY OUT OF IT!"

They were standing by this point, looking slightly out of breath and pink in the cheeks. Hermione's eyes were gleaming with turbulent emotions as she brought her hand to her forehead and brushed her hair back. Suddenly, her eyes moistened up, and she looked away.

"Why are you making us fight so much, Ron, can't you just accept my decision?" Hermione said, eyes tired and glassy as water collected in them. Ron looked at her, pain written all over his face as he took her hands in his; however, she drew hers out of his. "I am not pulling out," she told him, brown eyes meeting his. "I don't want to hear anymore grief from you; I am old enough to know what I am doing, and you know as well as I do that nothing will make me change my mind."

Ron looked down at her, eyes hooded and sad. He took her hands in his again, and this time, she let him and closed her eyes as he gave them a squeeze. "Okay."

Hermione hung her head and nodded while biting her lip, eyes closed. "Okay, now let's go to sleep because I have to wake up early tomorrow and go back to him."

Ron nodded silently, and with a dejected air went into the restroom to change.

The next morning was as awkward as Hermione expected it to be, she and Ron ate breakfast almost in absolute silence except for the occasional comment. Thankfully, their time together didn't last that long as she had to go back to Riddle Mansion, and he had to go to work. So, with a chaste kiss of good-bye, Hermione saw him out of their apartment and then went towards the fireplace. She threw the floo powder at it and stepped in.

"Riddle Mansion."

Immediately, she closed her eyes and sighed as she wondered what her week would be like, quite honestly she didn't even want to think about it. The Imperius potion was going to be a pain in the bum to concoct, and the Dark Lord's high-and-mighty attitude would only add to it.

"Ms. Granger."

Hermione looked up as she stepped out of the floo and into a small foyer with a chandelier. To her left stood a man, his hands were clasped behind his back, and he looked oddly familiar.

"Hi," she responded out of sheer instinct, for she was surprised to find him waiting for her.

"The Dark Lord instructed me to wait for you and bring you into the breakfast hall."

"Oh, okay . . . thank you," Hermione said with a sheepish smile as they walked past the doors and into a hall with Victorian paneling, stucco on the ceiling and paintings and sculptures along its length. Every few seconds, Hermione would throw glances up at the man she was walking next to.

"I've seen you before haven't I?" Hermione blurted out.

He threw her a quick glance with his brown eyes.

"Probably."

"You're Bellatrix's husband, right? Rodolphus?" Hermione went on.

"Yes," he said without looking at her. Silence fell upon them as he failed to elaborate, and Hermione felt extremely uncomfortable all of a sudden. He must know about his wife and Voldemort . . . yet he still has to serve Him and be in the same room with Him knowing full well he's sleeping with his wife. Wow, that sucked. Hermione threw a pitying glance up at Rodolphus as they finally entered the breakfast hall. "The Dark Lord will be right with you."

Hermione thanked him and sat down in the place she always occupied; the usual foods covered the table: eggs, freshly-cut fruits, yoghurt, bread, slices of ham and cheese . . . .

"You can stop eyeing the food now."

Hermione looked up as the Dark Lord closed the sliding doors behind his back. If Hermione was surprised to see him, it was nothing compared to her astonishment at seeing him in a black cashmere sweater with a chocolate shirt collar sticking out and grey pants. If it weren't for the snake face, Hermione would've said he looked quite handsome.

He smirked. "I told you I didn't just wear robes."

He took his seat at the head of the table next to Hermione.

"Go ahead," he said motioning towards the food. Hermione shrugged.

"Thank you, but I'm really not that hungry . . . ."

"I'm not eating alone." He put his knife and fork down to prove his point.

"Don't you normally eat alone, though?" Hermione wondered.

"If I'm by myself, then obviously yes, but if there's other people, then I don't like being the only one who's eating," he said sounding pressed for patience.

Hermione acquiesced reluctantly reached for the ham plate where a minuscule fork was embedded in one of the slices. She grabbed the utensil with the slice of ham in tow and deposited it in her plate before reaching for the butter.

"So, did you have a good night?" Hermione said putting the two pronged-fork back in the ham plate.

"As good as any," he replied briefly, putting fruit in his plate.

Hermione nodded absentmindedly as she looked up at him, he didn't seem to be planning on saying anything else; so Hermione bit into her sandwich in the uncomfortable silence.

"Did Dumbledore have any messages for me?" he asked her.

Hermione shook her head as she chewed and swallowed quickly. "Uhm . . . no, I didn't really meet with him privately, just at the Order meeting and they were more concerned with my welfare than anything."

"Were they surprised to learn that you weren't chained to a wall?" he said with a smirk, his mirthful eyes filled with dancing flames.

"I guess they were," she said with an amused smile, "although Molly did say you weren't feeding me enough," she ventured to say.

He cocked an eyebrow and waved his hand over the table teeming with edibles. "I'm providing, you are the one that's not eating."

Hermione sniffed humorously. "Yeah, I'm sorry; it's just I'm not too hungry today." Indeed, her sandwich lay half-eaten on her plate.

"How come? Do you not feel well?" he asked popping a grape into his mouth.

Hermione shrugged. "Oh, no I'm fine health-wise. It's just stupid, little . . ." she motioned with her right hand while looking for a term, "life reasons."

"Is it about your engagement?"

She looked up at him surprised. "How'd you know I was engaged?"

He nodded towards her while bringing a glass of juice to his lips, his ruby eyes meeting the diamond on her hand. "Sure, it's on the smaller side, but it's still noticeable."

"Well, we're saving up for the wedding," Hermione said with a shrug.

"Who is he?"

Hermione felt a little uncomfortable; she didn't know whether to tell him or not, but she figured he would find out anyway. "Ron."

"The redhead?" he said, voice lined with surprise. "I thought you were with Potter."

"No," Hermione said with a frown, "why did you think that?"

He shrugged and looked away. "Something I heard."

"No, Harry and I are just friends," Hermione said before taking a bite from her sandwich.

He stared at her for a moment, and then a smirk came onto his face; he sniffed humorously before reaching for a ciabatta bun. "Isn't the Weasley boy kind of slow?"

Hermione looked at him blankly; she hadn't expected that. "Well, he's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, sure, but he's a really nice guy: he's warm and loving and –"

"Stop or my breakfast will come up," Voldemort replied looking revolted.

Hermione pursed her lips and fell silent for a few seconds. "I know it may sound corny and naïve to you, but once you experience love, you'll realize that it's anything but."

'Oh, please," he said with a roll of his eyes. "I have been very successful without it, and that is how I intend to live the rest of my life."

Hermione looked down and took a bite from her sandwich thoughtfully; she chewed in silence and then, without looking up, ventured to say, "What about Bellatrix?"

"What do you mean?"

She looked up at him. "You two are together, right?"

"Who gave you that idea?" he said coolly.

"Well, there was always a rumor . . . and then well, the day I went back to the Order, when we were in the potions room, and Bellatrix came to report to you . . . I figured you hadn't talked Death Eater business because I wasn't invited to come along, and if you had had a secret meeting it would've been against the terms of the vow. So," she shrugged, "that only left one possibility."

He stared at her, jaws shut tightly, and lips pressed tight. "Well, I underestimated your deductive capabilities. Who else have you told?"

"No one," she said.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, Ginny and I figured it out and Ron was there so he heard us, but I don't think they'll tell anyone. I mean, Ginny would be too scared to risk you finding out she told everyone, and I know Ron will forget; he has the memory span of a goldfish."

"And the brain size," Voldemort muttered while taking a sip from his orange juice.

Hermione pressed her lips together. "You're so mean."

He responded with a smirk. "It's true though . . . ."

"Yeah . . . well, we all have our faults," Hermione said warmly as she focused her eyes back on her plate. They fell silent once more, the only noise being the occasional clatter of eating utensils and chewing.

"So, what did your fiancé do to cause your emotional upheaval?"

Hermione felt her mood instantly become weighed down. "Oh nothing, just stupid couple stuff."

"Is it about you being here?"

She looked up at him.

"Are you sure you're doing the right thing putting your relationship after your duties?"

Hermione shrugged and stared at the glass in front of her. "Like I told Ron, if we truly have a strong foundation, then this will be nothing for us. And also, you can't sacrifice the entire world for your relationship, " she added thoughtfully, "there will always be certain things that are above it, and so I really think that love has a place in a life, but that it shouldn't lead that life." If Hermione hadn't been so immersed in thought, she would've seen the Dark Lord smiling. "It's . . . I don't know if I'm making sense, " she said looking up at him briefly.

"What I think you're trying to say," he enunciated clearly, "is that one should never fall in love so much that they start using their heart instead of their brain in making decisions."

Hermione fell silent; it sounded a little radical, and something that he would say, but in a strange way, it rang true for her. "I do agree with that, " she said slowly after a moment of thoughtful quiet.

"An intelligent answer at last."

Hermione looked up at him and was met with cold, yet approving and enticing red eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

I am so sorry for the long wait! After I came back I just couldn't come up with anything, I guess I left my brain on some Greek island. Thanks to all who reviewed: Mrsbellariddle, welshteen,alrauna,mybutterflyshavesocksonthem, srihellgirl25, I lovesiriusorionblack, the-quiet-girl, serpent in red, and sweet tang honey!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not make any money from these writings.

* * *

It always amused Hermione as she looked back at the three weeks that had passed, just how different her sentiments towards the opposing side were. Gone were the awkwardness, timidity and goose bumps she would get from her new environment; now, she only felt a strange familiarity whenever she returned after spending her weekends with her friends and family. It could also be said that the pendulum was shifting and what used to be her home was currently less deserving of that title than her current abode.

"So what did Dumbledore ask you about?" Voldemort asked while handing Hermione a drink and taking his place in the sofa they were both seated at.

"Usual stuff, how I was . . . and. . . oh, he wanted to know if we were almost done with the potion - "

"And you told him that we are two weeks behind because the jackass Death Eater who was in charge of picking the Moonflower at midnight didn't know the difference between am and pm?"

Hermione sniffed humorously. "Well, not word by word . . . but basically."

"How's the redhead?"

"There're seven of them, so you're going to have to be more specific," Hermione said amused.

"Right, because you're going to be marrying any one of those seven redheads?" he said sarcastically. Hermione snorted with laughter and rocked slightly forward.

"Why are you asking? It's not like you care."

"Of course, I care," Voldemort replied with a sober look, "my reaction to him being well as opposed to not well will be less blithe."

Hermione looked away while shaking her head. "Only you would say that about someone's fiance." She sipped her drink in silence and then leaned forward to set it down on the table. As soon as the glass landed on the polished wooden surface, the Dark Lord leaned over and jerked it off the table. "Use a coaster, it'll stain."

"Sorry,"

she said quickly, his brow was furrowed as he charmed a coaster onto the table and then set the glass on it. Hermione would've laughed at the seriousness of his expression in the face of such a trivial faux pas, but she knew him enough now to know that it was the most trifling of things, which, for him, were like the spark that ignited the gunpowder room. Then again, he would never have gotten to be as feared as he was if he wasn't capricious: predictability doesn't scare people, change does.

"I read that book you gave me," she said brightly, "the one about the Dark Arts."

"From that description you're describing my whole library," he said snidely with a sniff, "you're going to have to be more specific."

"'Dark Arts: Dark Origins Dispelled'," Hermione said. She waited for him to say something, to respond to her swerve, and he did.

"And?"

The ball was back in her court.

"Well . . . It was interesting . . . I mean I know that it tries to explain that the Dark Arts aren't all that bad and everything, but I just can't agree with that. I mean true, most spells are not as awful as the Unforgivables, but they are still meant to cause harm in order to benefit the caster."

"Simple spells and hexes used for defense like 'Impedimenta' or 'Expelliarmus' are benefiting the caster yet harming the person they're cast on. And those two, among many, are not considered dark."

"Because they don't really harm," Hermione went on, "they have an effect on a person like slowing them down or disarming them, but that's not really causing them harm. It's. . . a small thing, something you recover quickly from. With the Cruciatus though –"

"Okay well now you're doing what every single small-minded wizard has done since the beginning of magic," he said sounding annoyed and impatient, "you think of Dark Arts, and your mind immediately goes to the end of the spectrum. There are a lot of curses and spells in the Dark Arts that are not as harmful as the Cruciatus. The making of Wolfsbane, for example, Wolfsbane is a dark potion which is why its making is supervised so strictly by the Ministry. However, it's not categorized as part of the Dark Arts."

"Yeah, I didn't know that it was part of the Dark Arts," Hermione said with a slight frown, "but why though? Because it deals with werewolves? That wouldn't make sense though because you're curing them . . . ."

"Because it's complicated," he said airily while finishing his glass of wine. "Too complicated for the Ministry's bureaucratic minds to process, and so they deem it dangerous, and ban it."

"That's a convenient way of looking at it," Hermione replied with a smirk.

"But it's true," he countered.

Hermione remained silent and then shrugged. "At the very least it's plausible." Hermione sniffed at the look he was giving her. "What? Aren't I entitled to have my own opinion which just so happens to differ from yours?"

"It's wrong," he said glowering at her.

"That's not a good way to go about life. I'm right, and everyone else is wrong? Never took you to be one who liked making himself out to be a victim."

"Victim? Me?"

He huffed and got off the couch and went back to the bar. "Those two don't even go in the same sentence," he boomed from the bar.

"Oh really? So you're telling me that you never brought up the fact that you were an orphan in front of people to make them pity you and be more open to your manipulations?"

"Hmm. . . not ringing any bells," he said, his back turned as he looked over the labels of the bottles in the racks behind the bar.

"Let me use a current example to jot your memory," Hermione went on, "Ginny Weasley and her pen pal Tom who understood all her frustrations about money because he grew up in an orphanage, a fact that made Ginny help poor little Tommy with whatever he asked."

"That was diary Tom," Voldemort called out after finally having picked up a bottle, "he had issues."

Hermione threw back her head and laughed. "Right, 'cause you've changed so much ever since."

"Are you saying I've gotten old?" he said with a frown while motioning towards his face, his Tom Riddle-looks intact except for a few grey hairs on his head.

Hermione smiled widely; he returned the gesture. "Okay, you won," she said after a while, "I'll hand it to you; you went around that bullet with a lot finesse."

"Well, of course I always win these verbal repartees," he said stopping in front of her and sipping the wine from the glass. He scrunched up his face after drinking it and shook his head. "No, I don't like it," he said, and then handed it to her.

Hermione laughed silently. "Ass," she said while holding the glass as he went back to the bar and fixed himself another. Once he was done filling his glass, he walked slowly back.

"You're giving that to me," Hermione said solemnly, although her eyes were shining with laughter. "And you better not drink from it."

"By whom's order?" he said stopping in front of her and looking down at her chestnut eyes.

"Mine," she replied, a smile on her closed lips.

"And you are?" he said with a frown.

"Her highness, Hermione Granger," she replied, teeth breaking through her closed lip smile.

"Her majesty should allow her lowly servants to taste her drinks to make sure there's no poison," he replied quietly.

"Her majesty believes that her servants' lips would poison the drink."

"Maybe her majesty should taste the servant's lips to disprove her beliefs."

Hermione who had been grinning the whole time their conversation took place, felt her smile falter as his reply embedded itself in her mind. She let out one nervous laugh to release tension as she searched for an appropriate response. She opened her mouth, but words faltered to come out until finally, her stunned brain wrapped itself around a shortcut she could take to get out of this situation. "Well, wow, two times in a row . . . that's very good, you're extremely witty. I don't even know why I thought I could have a wordplay with you and win." The whole time she tried to keep a cheerful demeanor as before, but it came out contrived and painfully awkward.

"The wine certainly helped," he said briefly, almost angrily.

"Yeah," Hermione said while standing up only to realize exactly how close they were. "Indeed." Apparently, he seemed to have read her mind because he took two large steps back, before turning around completely and going to the bar.

"I'm sorry, but I have a very low tolerance for alcohol, and right now I am incredibly sleepy," Hermione went on, "so . . . I'll see you tomorrow morning, then. Have a good night."

"Good night," he responded just as Hermione left hurriedly out the door.

She didn't even make sure the door closed completely as he so often liked to remind her, she was too caught up with the whirlwind of thoughts funneling into the rationalizing part of her brain which felt like it was about to break from the strain of sorting out her turbulent thoughts. _What the fuck_ _had happened?_

One moment they were having an innocent and friendly conversation, and the next . . . Hermione scowled and shivered slightly; her arms instinctively wrapped themselves around her torso. Strangely enough, her face was hot even though the rest of her body was cold. _Stupid wine, _she thought, _never drinking again . . ._ . Hermione pushed open the door to her room and closed it behind her making sure to lock it before crossing the large space with quick strides and throwing herself on her bed. Ugh, how was she going to face him in the morning? What would they say to each other? Not just then, but from now on? It's not like they could ignore each other until the end of that horrible Alliance, they had a potion to work on.

Hermione buried her face in her pillow and let out a moan. _What the fuck!_

She couldn't go to Dumbledore and request that she be taken off the mission because it would look suspicious, and knowing him, the professor would pry the truth from her whether willing or unwilling in the form of legilimency, and when he did. . . Hermione moaned again. But wait, that didn't make sense. Why should she be worried? She was the victim! It's not like she led him on or anything, his response was totally uncalled for and bordering on harassment; so why did she still cringe at the thought of Dumbledore finding out about that night?

_Maybe because you were actually flirting, _her mind offered. But no! That was impossible, she was just being friendly and having a good time like she would with a friend. _But_ _he's not a friend; he's the enemy, _her mind said and Hermione felt even worse as she finally accepted what had been sitting in the fringes of her mind; that she had so hoped she could ignore.

They had been flirting. Not just that night, too . . . but every single night for the past three weeks! Hermione groaned at this thought and closed her eyes tight. It had been mild, of course, both prevaricating and playing around with each other, baiting, but never falling; giving, but not taking . . . until tonight when their play was finally stopped by a big red GAME OVER button in the form of his commentary. _And 'game over' it was indeed_, she thought as she pulled her hand from underneath the pillow and fiddled with the diamond ring on her finger. She was engaged, practically married; she had a loving, funny and likeable fiancé who was also one of her best friends; so what on earth had she been thinking? Hermione let out another long, drawn out and exasperated moan into her pillow. Finally, she closed her eyes. What now? _Well, for one thing, no more nightly alcohol-induced chats,_ her mind offered, and two . . . well yeah, no more of their nightly chats accompanied by alcohol because that was what had caused this horrible situation. _Yes, stupid,_ _Stupid_ _alcohol._

For the past three weeks, she'd been drinking nightly with him as a way to unwind from their labor-filled day, but that would have to stop. He was not a friend, not a confidante, and certainly not someone she should enjoy being with. Having said such resolution, Hermione made her way to the bathroom to change into her night clothes, and once she was back in bed, and the lights were off, she found that her firm resolution did nothing to help her sleep.

* * *

_Alcohol…what a potent substance. It has the power to throw you into an abyss or launch you through the clouds. It can be your best friend in times of need, but when you least expect it, it stabs you in the back. It's a horrible and wonderful thing, alcohol, a double-edged sword._

The Dark Lord stared at the dark-red liquid sloshing innocently around the glass his long-fingered hand was holding up to the light. He smirked. Innocent, appealing, and, because of that, subtle in its coldly calculated and effective manipulation. Remind you of someone?

Voldemort never thought to draw a comparison between himself and a glass of fermented grape juice, but from the occurrence that night, he couldn't help but appreciate the beauty of that blood-red liquid. _So sneaky._ He smiled again as he sipped from it, it had always been his favorite drink, and now Voldemort understood why. _So, at least one good thing came from tonight, _he thought. Because as far as his last comment, he would've been better off not saying it. It had put him in a very uncomfortable spot, and that had made him angry; he was Dark Lord: he wasn't supposed to show weakness so openly. Not only that, but if the bushy-haired little bitch decided that his remark was too damaging for her uptight self, she would go to Dumbledore and tell him, which would lead to him taking her off the mission and sending someone who would not be so easy to get close to.

Truth was, that Voldemort had no idea really how to make this Alliance work for him at the moment. The Order had assumed that he already knew how he was going to use the Alliance to his advantage, and that that was the reason why he had accepted it in the first place. Not that this was displeasing to him. He had worked very hard his whole life to create the image of superhuman ability: he had shed his old looks for the visage of Lord Voldemort, changed the way he dressed, even spoke. After his last return, however, he found that he missed his old self to an extent; being Lord Voldemort was tiring and stressful, and he just couldn't go all day and night like he had done back in his first reign. He didn't know if it was age – in muggle years he was 74, but wizarding ones were the ones that counted and in those he was only 37– or maybe him entering a midlife crisis, but he had missed Tom.

So, he had done some research and figured out a way to bring his old face back and be able to change into it at will. He'd also gone back to indulging himself when it came to clothing, of course all these changes were witnessed by none except Hermione. Whenever he was with the Death Eaters or Order members, he went back to being the shell Voldemort was. Only when he was alone, or strangely enough, with Hermione, would he go return to himself.

_Well, we do live together, and it wouldn't be fair for me to also have to put on_ _an act for her, too. _

Yes, and she was under the Alliance vow; so she couldn't tell anyone. Not to mention that it was also advantageous in helping him get close to her, Tom Riddle's face was a like magnet, after all. He hadn't known how he would use the Alliance to benefit him, but what he had instinctively done was get close to Hermione and make sure she was comfortable with knew that familiarity would only help him when he did think of something. And now, childish as it may be, he had. He would seduce her, and reveal that to the Order who would shun her in turn. It wasn't much, nor was it monumental or something he could brag about, but it was something he could work on at the moment and be sure that it would lead somewhere: it would open doors to other opportunities that were much more Lord Voldemort-worthy.

He was torn away from his thoughts by a tapping on the window; a snowy white owl with a letter hovered outside. With a wave of his hand, the window opened, and the owl left the letter on his desk before swooping out. Voldemort frowned after the owl, didn't he want a reply? That's when alarm bells went off in his head, why did the owl leave without a reply? Come to think of it he had swooped out of there pretty fast. Voldemort stood up slowly and backed away from the letter; he stumbled a few times though, and he cursed. Stupid wine. After his spells had scanned the letter and come back clean, he was intrigued. What sort of curse had been placed on the letter that was undetected by the myriad of security spells he had thrown at it? Maybe he could get one of the Death Eaters to open it . . . .

"Tom, are you coming?"

Voldemort turned towards the fireplace where Dumbledore's head was floating.

"What?" he managed to say.

"Didn't you get my letter?" Dumbledore asked, "Hermes has been back for a while . . ."

"I don't have to give explanations to you!" Voldemort snapped as he made his way to his desk and ripped the letter open.

_Tom –_

_I need to talk to you, can you come to_ _my office now?_

_AD_

So that's why the owl hadn't expected a reply … Tom felt his face start going red. Stupid, _stupid _wine.

"So, are you coming?"

In response, Voldemort made a sharp swat in the direction of the fireplace sending a thick flame towards Dumbledore's hovering head. Before it could impact on the professor's face, said wizard was gone.

Cursing himself, Voldemort reached into his desk and pulled out a sobering potion which he drank fully. He then changed into his sinister black robes and into the snake face with a quick command-thought. He couldn't help but feel angry that Dumbledore had seen him in what Voldemort considered a very intimate position: with his normal face and wearing regular clothes, not to mention making a fool out of himself because of all the wine he'd consumed. No, he was inflamed, and he would let Dumbledore have it. How dare he intrude like that?

"I want to put in a clause in the vow forbidding you from entering my Floo network," Voldemort called out as he Apparated into the Headmaster's office.

"Why? Afraid of what I might see?" Dumbledore said with a sly grin on his face. Voldemort frowned and looked disgusted.

"Wipe that look off your face, it doesn't suit you."

"Speaking of, when did you get your face back?"

"What is so important that you intrude upon my private life in the manner in which you did," Voldemort snapped.

"Calm down, it won't happen again unless it is of an urgent nature."

Voldemort crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall.

"So, what do you want?"

"To invite you to a party."

Voldemort's nonexistent eyebrows went up. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Dumbledore went on pleasingly, "lemon drop?"

"I think you need to lay off these for a while," Voldemort snapped reaching for the container on Dumbledore's desk. "All that sugar is driving you into senility."

"Just like you with all that alcohol," Dumbledore snapped.

Voldemort went cold; he had to invoke all his self-control to keep his face straight.

"I don't know what you're referring to. I always have a glass of wine at night."

"Are you sure you don't mean bottle?"

"Is this why you brought me here?" Voldemort snapped, "to showcase your delusions?"

"No, it was to invite you to the Christmas party, I told you. You were the one that went off tangent," Dumbledore said.

"And you tell me that _I've_ been drinking . . ." Voldemort said derisively while staring at the professor.

"I think it would be a good way to bring the two sides together for the Alliance," Albus said pleasantly, "it would be at Hogwarts, so it's neutral yet familiar to everyone, and the Order and I would come, and the Death Eaters and you –"

"And the Ministry, and the Aurors, and everyone would bring gift bags for each other and at the end of the night, we'd hold hands and light candles and sing for peace. I get it. Now it's my turn to ask you, how could you possibly be giving this serious consideration?" Voldemort exclaimed; he was bent down over Dumbledore's desk, hands planted on the cool wood surface.

"I don't know why you're acting like this," Dumbledore said leaning back and away from his glaring face. "I think it's a good idea."

"Are you listening to what are you saying to me?" Voldemort cried out sounding exasperated. "Honestly, how can those Order fools swear their lives to you and let you be their leader?"

"Because they trust me," Dumbledore said, "you use fear; I use trust."

"I'm not going to your hippie fest," the Dark Lord breathed as he got up from leaning over Dumbledore's desk.

"You can't possibly tell me you have plans," Albus said lightly.

"It's not about plans," Voldemort responded slowly, "It's about the fact that you are being delusional in thinking you can throw a party for two sides which have been battling each other for the past twenty years! There have been countless casualties for both sides, and you really think people are going to set that aside for one night just because of this Alliance of yours?" He laughed bitterly. "Oh old man, you are losing your mind."

"Right now, we need to set all that aside, our very survival depends on it. The Ministry is tightening its hold over us; half of my people already have arrest warrants out for them, and as for your side . . . I am sure you know that the Ministry is seeking international help to eradicate you. Scrimgeour has been going all over Europe and even the Americas in his campaign to make you an international threat, and if he succeeds in scaring them enough . . . your days as Dark Lord will be coming to a close," Dumbledore finished silently. Voldemort knew he was right; he had been worrying about Scrimgeour's international exploits for the past week.

"I don't think a Christmas party is a good idea," Voldemort said finally.

"It'll be the night of the 24th; the wards will be down for all those bearing a Dark Mark," Dumbledore explained as the Dark Lord gave him one last glare and Disapparated.


	5. Chapter 5

So, I hope this long chapter was worth the wait! I am dedicating it to **INKFIRE** who has been amazing and read, within the past week, all my stories and reviewed every single chapter! Je t'aime Inkfire! I would, as always, like to thank my reviewers: _Inkfire, Ldeetz, LK-HoGwArTs-hEaDgIrL, kamillia, lili, seduced by moonlight, the-quiet-girl, alrauna, ilovesiriusorionblack, serpent in red, takara410, sweet-tang-honey, Apsaras Yoma and sarahr85_. Love you all and keep reviewing!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not make any money from these writings.

* * *

Breakfast, as it turned out, was not an awkward affair. Hermione had been sure that the Dark Lord would say something about the night before, but he hadn't. Instead, he acted as if nothing had happened, and soon enough, Hermione, too had let it go.

"So your darling Dumbledore has officially gone off his rocker," Voldemort announced looking up at her.

Hermione frowned. "Why, what does he want?"

"To throw a Christmas party for the two sides."

Hermione wasn't sure if she heard correctly, her eyes widened slightly and her brow furrowed. "What?"

He snorted in laughter and finished off his orange juice. "My reaction exactly."

Hermione remained silent for a few seconds considering his statement, and then she let out a snort of laughter, and a smile came over her face. "That . . .wow . . . someone should videotape it."

"What?" he asked.

"Oh, uh . .. record it or take pictures or something," Hermione explained just as she began to daintily eat fruit from a small bowl in front of her. "When and where is it?"

"Night of the 24th at Hogwarts," he replied.

"But the ministry locks Hogwarts up for the winter," Hermione pressed on. Voldemort shrugged.

"According to Dumbledore he's got it all figured out."

His voice had a tone of finality. Although a familiar, but dreaded smirk came over his face. " I never thought I'd see a day where Death Eaters and Order members would celebrate a holiday together. Might be fun."

"You know you can't do anything because of the vow," Hermione reminded him, she had no desire to babysit him throughout the night to make sure he didn't kill people.

"Except for that," he muttered darkly while looking back down at the last strawberry on his plate which he stabbed with his fork.

There was a knock on the door as Hermione finished off her coffee.

"Come in," Voldemort called out.

Hermione looked away as Wormtail shuffled into the room. In all the Death Eater she had managed to find something to like or admire, all but him.

"My lord, we are all waiting for you at the conference room."

"Miss Granger and I will be there shortly," the Dark Lord muttered without looking at him; instead, his eyes were focused on a point at the end of the room.

Wormtail bowed, threw a glance at Hermione and scuttled out. Before the muggleborn could ask the Dark Lord exactly what was so captivating, his eyes snapped off the thing that had reeled him in and went back onto Hermione.

"Shall we?"

Hermione was caught unprepared for his rapid progression from one subject to another; so she just nodded while pushing her chair back and standing.

* * *

"You can't be serious."

"I think it's a wonderful idea," Dumbledore said lightly.

"A party, Albus? With the _Death Eaters_?" Mr. Weasley finished with a frown, arms crossed and placed on the table.

"And the Dark Lord agreed to this?" Bellatrix asked, for once as incredulous as everyone around her.

"To sum up, yes," Albus went on as he remembered Tom's reaction the night before.

"Can we make party favors?" Fred asked suddenly

"Courtesy of Weasley Wizard Wheezes?" George added.

"This is not a joke," the headmaster responded.

"It sure sounds like one," Moody grumbled before pushing his chair back loudly as he stood up and faced Dumbledore. "I will not take a part of this party crap, we're supposed to be in a war with these people not throwing parties for them. I was against the Alliance in the first place, but I trusted you because of your reputation, but this?" he finished with a hiss and then limped out of the room, his wooden leg the only noise in the room. "This is just insulting."

Everyone brooded in silence, the distant sound of Moody's wood leg on the wooden floorboards the only noise.

"He's right, you know," Kingsley said slowly, "Albus, I don't think this is the way to go about it."

"People have lost too much, Albus," Arthur began, "they are not going to put all that aside for one night, it is asking too much and Alastor was right, it is insulting. Not only to us, but to the memory of all those who have passed."

There was a silent mutter of agreement.

"Funny," Albus muttered staring up at the conjured up sky filled with stars, "that's almost verbatim what Voldemort said."

"Well, glad to know he at least has some common sense," Arthur responded darkly, and Bellatrix smiled.

"So, I shall respond you how I responded him and ultimately convinced him," Dumbledore answered in a stronger voice, "by now you all have been adversely affected by the ministry's decree outlawing us: half the people here already have arrest warrants out for them, and the other half are being watched like bugs under a magnifying glass. I am sure you all know that it is going to get worse and that if we don't do anything about it, we will be completely destroyed, and then, the last hope this world has of ridding itself of the Dark Lord will be gone."

Bellatrix sniffed at this, anger pulsing through her words, "that will never happen."

"Bellatrix, if you can't keep your comments to yourself, I will have to ask you to leave."

"You can't do that, it would go against the vow," she snapped.

"Not if the reason for it is that you are preventing us from holding our regular meetings," Albus replied just as snappily. A tone that was very rare for the headmaster, "so, as I was saying, this is the lesser of two evils. By uniting ourselves, as we have, with the dark side, we will take out the ministry, which is threatening both groups, and then the usual feud can commence. So far, we have forged an Alliance and started working together in small ways; however, there is still a great deal of distrust present."

"You think?" Ron mumbled sarcastically.

"And I know," Dumbledore said more loudly, "that this is hard, but it is something we must do. We have to get as close as we can to the dark side so that we are united when the time comes to go up against the ministry. If there is this level of mistrust, then the plan will not work and the Alliance will go to waste. The purpose of this celebration is to bring both sides together in a time of need and to recognize that at the moment we have the same goal: self-preservation. "

"I don't know, Albus," Tonks said breaking the silence that had settled after the headmaster's words. "I guess it makes sense, but it's just . . .there's always a possibility You-Know-Who will circumvent the vow and find a way to turn this to his advantage."

"The same applies for us, " the professor responded, "he must be thinking the same thing of us, and with more reason seeing as how we suggested this in the first place."

"_You_ suggested," Ron muttered.

"I think it's something we have to do," Ginny said speaking up, "I mean compared to all the other sacrifices we've made, this is nothing . . . ."

"Exactly, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said appreciatively, "so, I have presented my arguments, and I see that at least some of you are coming to terms with this. I know I can't convince all of you, but I would hope with some time for deliberation you would see the benefits in this arrangement." He stood up, robes rustling. "Meeting adjourned."

"Does Hermione know?" Ron asked suddenly.

"I am sure Lord Voldemort will have told her by now," Albus responded lightly.

* * *

"A party, my lord? With Dumbledore and the Order?"

"I reiterate that I had nothing to do with this ludicrous idea, it was all him," Voldemort said enunciating quite clearly. Hermione shifted in her seat next to the Dark Lord as she looked down the table at the inner circle whose expressions went from surprise to mirth.

"Are we going to do anything, my lord?" a thick man asked, Hermione couldn't tell if it was Crabbe or Goyle, she always got the two mixed up.

"You can try to do something, Goyle," Voldemort said in a fake voice while crossing his arms on the table and cocking his head, "and then you will see what happens when you go against a vow."

Quiet laughter followed the Dark Lord's sarcastic statement.

"Anymore enlightening comments?" he said in the same tone.

"My lord, does this mean that the annual Malfoy Christmas party is cancelled?" Lucius asked, his tone indescribable. Hermione threw a glance at him, he was sitting right in front of her at Voldemort's left.

"Yes," the Dark Lord replied giving him a brief glance before going on with his speech about etiquette that night. Hermione doubted Lucius was even listening, he looked quite troubled, there was even a slight furrowing of his brow as he looked down at his ring pensively. Hermione wanted to let out a small laugh, she could just see him beating himself up over losing a chance to show off his wealth.

"Lucius."

Hermione snapped out of her reverie as the Dark Lord sharply called Malfoy, who, just like Hermione, had been lost in thought.

"My lord, I am so sorry," he said lowly.

Besides her, Hermione saw Rodolphus smile slightly at Lucius' faux pas. It was no secret that he wanted to dethrone Lucius as Voldemort's number two.

"It always amazes me, Lucius, how fearful you are of that wife of yours," Voldemort said, "I must have a talk with her because, clearly, you're more scared of her than you are of me. That's the only explanation I can come up with as to why you would choose to ignore me and wonder about your wife's reaction to her Christmas party being cancelled."

Another ripple of silent, mocking laughter went through the table; however, Hermione kept her face straight, she felt bad for Lucius.

"As I was saying," the Dark Lord continued, eyes shifting off Malfoy, "we will bring our own food. I don't trust those Order members, thick as they are, to not try and go against the vow."

"I am sure Dumbledore would've seen that everyone respects the terms of the vow, my lord," Hermione said breaking her silence. She felt all eyes on her; it was not anyone who could go against what the Dark Lord said.

"I'm not taking my chances, Ms. Granger," he said briefly, "besides," he added with a smirk, "I doubt they'll have anything that is up our tastes, no, gentlemen?"

Words of agreement were said, and Hermione fought an urge to roll her eyes. These conceited dark wizards . . . .

The meeting went on for about ten more minutes as Death Eaters reported anything of interest to Voldemort, Hermione did what she did every meeting and tried to appear as an uninterested listener. She didn't want the Death Eaters mistrusting her more than was necessary. Once the meeting was adjourned, she decided to Apparate home so she could get one of her gowns and some heels. She still hadn't figure out how she would wear her hair, not that there was that much she could do to it, but she only had a few days left until Christmas day, so she decided to spend the rest of her evening, once she'd Apparated back to the mansion, figuring out hair styles.

* * *

Hermione was supposed to have met up with Ron for the party at Hogwarts, but her fiance had insisted she come back home and that they go together from there. So now, minutes before they were to appear at the party that would be remembered for centuries to come, Hermione stood before a long thin mirror behind her bathroom door. She wore a simple satin periwinkle blue gown. Her hair had been defined in soft curls falling around her face and down her shoulders right over the swell of her breasts.

She had just finished her make up as well, and surprisingly enough, it looked decent. Hermione had never been one to have a flair for make up. For her, eyeliner was what she used to take quick notes when she didn't have a writing utensil handy. Ginny, Lavender and all the other girls she was friends with had always taunted her about her lack of make up. She'd never been as girly or frivolous as them, after all, when you studied as much as Hermione, you didn't have time to look pretty.

"Are you ready?"

"Yeah," Hermione said turning around to look at Ron who was wearing a simple, black suit. "You look good," she said with a smile.

He grimaced and pulled at his tie. "Everything's too tight, I feel like I can't move."

"Well, you'd better get used to it," Hermione said with a small laugh as she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. "Because you can't get married wearing robes."

"What about my Quidditch robes? They're pretty fancy."

"No, Ron," Hermione said briefly as they stopped at their fireplace.

"What? The grass stains aren't even that noticeable anymore . . . ."

Hermione shook her head rapidly and closed her eyes to signal that the conversation was over. "I'll go first."

She threw the floo powder into the fireplace and stepped in. "Hogwarts entrance hall," she said and closed her eyes as she was whisked away. Soon enough, she arrived at the familiar Hogwarts entrance hall, stepping out of the fireplace and making sure her dress was soot-free, Hermione stood aside to wait for Ron to come. Next to the entrance hall door she spotted Bellatrix, the witch was dressed in a black corseted dress. Hermione averted her eyes when Ginny came through the doors in her direction. She looked very pretty in a simple bottle green dress.

"That's such a pretty necklace," Hermione commented as Ginny got closer. Her necklace really stood out among her simple attire, it consisted of two rows of diamonds brought together over her breasts by a 2-inch emerald.

Ginny smiled and placed her hand on it. "Thanks, it almost looks real, huh?"

"Very much so," Hermione commented, "but if it were real, I can't imagine how much it would've cost."

"Hey Gin," Ron said coming out of the fireplace and kissing Ginny on the cheek, "are they here, yet?"

"No," the redhead said looking at Hermione, "Bellatrix is waiting for Him out here; Dumbledore and everyone else are inside the Great Hall waiting."

"Well, I don't think we would wanna be here alone when they all arrive," Ron commented while offering his arm to Hermione who took it and, along with Ginny, walked across the entrance and into the Great Hall. Hermione smiled nostalgically as she noted the decorations were exactly those that were put up every year at the school, with Christmas trees at each corner, lights around windows and over the ceiling beams; however, Dumbledore had brought in Nordic elves to serve the guests and charmed gentle snowflakes to fall down in the room and disappear when coming in contact with something without leaving any wetness behind. He had also covered a single long table with cream tablecloths, lining the edges with red and green garlands.

"Oh, professor, it's beautiful," Hermione greeted as she, Ron and Ginny reached the corner where the Order was huddled up in leather armchairs set up in a semi-circular fashion.

"Thank you, Hermione, weren't you supposed to be coming with Tom and his group?" Albus asked curiously, he wore bright red robes with a snowflake and candy cane pattern.

"Well, seeing as how she's my fiancée, I thought it would be more proper for us to come as a couple," Ron said before Hermione could say anything.

"I'm not neglecting my duties, professor, I assure you, it's only for the party. I'll go back with Him tomorrow morning," Hermione said quickly.

The headmaster gave her a thankful smile just as he looked up at the double doors.

"Oh, here they are," Albus said affably. Hermione turned to where the headmaster was walking, but not before catching a glimpse at the expressions of horror, anger, and disbelief her fellow Order members were sporting. Hermione could see the dark wizards standing in front of the doors and behind their leader who was watching the headmaster with disdain, his black, formal robes a sharp contrast against Dumbledore's Christmas-themed ones. "Tom."

"Dumbledore," Voldemort acknowledged stiffly.

"Please, come in, the elves here would be more than happy to take your drink orders . . ."

"We brought our own, that won't be necessary." Voldemort walked past the headmaster, his group following closely behind. Hermione saw his red eyes land on her; she smiled slightly. He did not return the gesture. Instead, he went to the corner opposite the one the Order members had barricaded themselves in and sat down in a leather armchair, the inner circle began moving the chair and sofas into a semi-circular shape facing their snake-faced leader.

"Well," Hermione said while watching the two groups at opposite ends of the hall giving each other suspicious and loathful looks, "this should be fun."

Silently, Ron and Hermione walked back towards their corner and sat down in a sofa next to Ginny. The air was tense, the Order members were looking back across the room at the Death Eaters in anticipation, as if they expected them to suddenly attack, Hermione noticed that the Death Eaters were doing the same.

"Ugh great," Ron commented, "Malfoy's here."

Indeed, Draco along with Lucius and Narcissa were all seated in the same sofa, next to the Dark Lord's armchair.

"If only there was a way to alert the ministry," Arthur muttered to Lupin who he was seated next to, "imagine, they would catch Lucius 'I was under the Imperious curse' Malfoy next to You-Know-Who himself. He wouldn't be so smug in Azkaban robes, I am sure."

Lupin nodded and sniffed approvingly.

"So long as You-Know-Who stays away from Ginny, that's all I care about," Molly said next to her husband, "I don't want a repeat of her first year . . . ."

Hermione looked away from Molly and the rest of her fellow grumbling Order members when Dumbledore's booming voice reached her ears from the podium he usually spoke from at the beginning of each school year; at that moment Hermione had a short sense of Déjà vu.

"I would like to thank you all for coming tonight," the headmaster announced, "it really says a lot about your commitment to the Alliance and the future of your respective organization. The purpose of tonight is to foster a greater understanding towards each other, and in that way giving this Alliance a greater chance of succeeding. I am sure all of you have heard this already, but I'll say it again: silly or ludicrous as this party might seem, it is essential so as to form a working relationship between our two groups. Only a united front would be strong enough to take down the current ministry, and if our differences are not smoothed away as much as possible for the time being, we will all fail miserably. So, tonight, let's keep that in mind and make an effort to make each other feel at ease."

A few Order members, including Hermione and Ron after being elbowed by her, clapped respectfully as Dumbledore ended his speech and started coming down the stairs; however, the clappign died down quickly when the headmaster walked past his group's corner and towards the one the dark side had barricaded itself in, his colorful form a stark contrast among all the dark colored robes. Hermione watched him stop in front of the Dark Lord who was reclining in his armchair lazily, Bellatrix in a chair besides him looking as smug and happy as Hermione had ever seen her. She couldn't hear what Dumbledore was saying to Voldemort, but she could tell he wasn't pleased at hearing it because he raised one thin eyebrow in a haughty manner before shaking his head slowly.

"I wonder what's going on," Hermione said aloud.

"We'll find out when Dumbledore comes back," Ron muttered just as music began playing. At that time one of the Nordic elves came around with peppermint and other Christmas-themed cocktails, they were cute little elves, Hermione noticed, very much like the ones in pictures with Santa Claus.

"They're starting to dance," Ron commented. Hermione looked up and saw that indeed, some couples were moving towards the dance floor, including the Malfoys, Crabbes, and soon enough the Lestranges with Bellatrix giving Voldemort wistful looks. Voldemort and a few others remained in their seats, Dumbledore by then had taken the seat next to him where Bellatrix had sat and seemed to be deep in conversation.

"Where's Ginny?" Ron asked suddenly while looking around.

"Maybe she's in the restroom," Hermione offered.

"Yeah, but how long has she been gone? I don't want her alone with Death Eaters roaming about," Ron muttered while standing up.

"Ron," she hissed, "they can't do anything, they're under a vow!"

However, her fiancé would not be deterred, and he swept past her and started walking towards the exit. Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes as she began staring at the headmaster and the Dark Lord who were still deeply immersed in talks.

"Big brothers are like that," Tonks said breaking Hermione's concentration, "you're lucky you never had one. They can get annoying." She smiled while moving away from her husband and sitting next to Hermione.

"Yeah, I suppose."

"So, how are the wedding preparations coming along?"

"They're on hold for now," Hermione replied, "I mean with me not here and in the middle of a mission, and Ron watching his back at work so he doesn't get carted off to Azkaban, you know it's the least we could expect."

"Maybe you should just . . . you know! Get married, just like that," Tonks said eyes shining, "it's not fair for you to have to postpone your happiness like this. I remember when Remus and I got married, oh Hermione, it was the most amazing feeling!" she gushed, "we just went to a church and asked to be married. It was very unexpected and just a spur of the moment thing, but I couldn't have asked for anything more."

Hermione smiled at seeing Tonks recalling her wedding with so much emotion. "That's wonderful, but Ron and I really want an actual wedding. We kind of promised ourselves that." She smiled politely one last time before looking back towards where the Dark Lord was, Dumbledore had left now, and so Voldemort was alone drinking from a glass of wine. Hermione looked around, Ron was still not back. Excusing herself, she stood up and began walking towards the Dark Lord. For a moment she worried what the Order would say at seeing her willingly go and fraternize with him, but that was part of her mission, right?

"Hello," Hermione said stopping in front of him while pulling her wrap tighter around her body. "So how's your night so far?"

"As can be expected," he replied shortly, "are you going to stand there all night?"

"Oh, no, of course not," she walked over to the chair Bellatrix and now Dumbledore had vacated next to him. She looked around and saw that Macnair, Dolohov and Alecto Carrow were the only ones sitting, they were immersed in conversation and were seated further away. Everyone else was now dancing to the slow music; even some Order couples had joined in.

"Try these," he said suddenly while reaching over for the center table where food was laid out, he grabbed a napkin and then what looked to be a small circular toast with white cream on it. "They're smoked Salmon and Caviar canapés."

Hermione took it from him and took a bite. "That's really good," she said earnestly, "I love the smokiness of it."

He nodded grabbing one for himself. "And it goes perfectly with my pinot gris," he said while sipping his white wine. Hermione conjured up a wine glass and held it out to him.

"Care to share?"

"I don't have a red," he said. Hermione frowned, not knowing what he was talking about; then she looked down at her wine glass and realized what he meant.

"Oh well, you're the wine expert not me," Hermione commented with a small smile while waving her wand around her red wine glass and making it taller and slightly narrower. "There, happy?"

He was already waiting for her with the bottle uncorked. "These things have to be second nature to you, Hermione, how many times do I have to tell you the basics of wine consumption?"

She smiled and let out a small laugh. "So, you and Dumbledore seemed immersed in conversation, what was that about?" she finished while drinking from the glass.

"We'd been discussing a plan of attack for a while now, and he was just giving me potential times. They're all in the future though, at least a month or two from now," he said.

Hermione nodded. "So, that's when you'll be using the potion we brewed?"

"Most likely," he muttered, "if not, it's always smart to have the Imperius potion laying around."

"Is that what you gave to ministry officials during the first war?" Hermione asked, "because I know that in order for the Imperius curse to work, the victim and the caster have to be within proximity, but I figured you couldn't have a Death Eater trailing each ministry official with their wand on their back. Whereas with the potion, you would only need to give it to the victim once a day."

"As always, you figured correctly," he said with a small nod, "that potion has always been very useful for my cause."

Hermione looked back down at her canapé and finished it off with one bite before sipping from her glass. She could see a few of the Order members glancing at her with a little more than worry . . . almost suspicion? Hermione frowned and looked back out at the dancing couples.

"So, where's your fiancé?"

"Off to look for Ginny," Hermione commented, "he thinks your Death Eaters are gonna try something on her."

"Doesn't he know we are under a vow?" Voldemort said with a mocking tone.

"You knew we were on a vow, yet you still brought your own food, so clearly he's not the only one not taking chances," Hermione responded a little too brusquely. She was staring at the Order members seated at the other end of the room; they were still talking and sending her looks. She knew she shouldn't have snapped at the Dark Lord, not only because he was who he was, but because he hadn't done anything to deserve it. It wasn't his fault that her side, for whom she was living with Him in the first place, was now trash talking her for choosing to have a conversation with Him.

"That was completely uncalled for," he said softly while looking at her with cold eyes. He sounded like a teacher, Hermione thought, or worse yet, a parent reprimanding their child.

"I'm sorry," she said hastily while standing up and hurrying back across the room to her seat. She didn't want to go back, but she couldn't stay with Him, not after that incident. Also, she couldn't take the looks she was getting from her people anymore. Pouting slightly, she plopped down in her old seat in a very unladylike way, bringing her wine glass to her lips to finish the beverage up.

"So, Hermione,"

The witch in question let out an inward sigh and inhaled a good amount of air; she couldn't believe they were going to accuse her of what they were going to accuse her of. "Yes?" she said turning to look at Tonks, Remus, Dedalus and Amelia Bones. Molly and Arthur who had just gotten back from dancing, sat down at that moment.

"You seem pretty comfortable around Him," Tonks commented.

"Well, living with someone for a couple of months does that to you," she replied sweetly, she hoped it didn't sound bitchy. She was however, annoyed by her colleagues at this moment.

"Wait, what happened?" Molly asked, a note of panic taking over her voice as she stared at Hermione to make sure she was unharmed. "Did He do anything?"

"No, it's just that while you and Arthur were dancing, Hermione went to sit with You-Know-Who and talk, and we were just alarmed by how comfortable she seemed. She was smiling and laughing the whole time!"

Hermione felt a rush of anger going through her. What the fuck was Tonks playing at? Her future mother-in-law was now looking at Hermione with a slight frown.

"That is not true," Hermione said sharply, her sober face a sharp contrast to Tonks' mirthful one, "and I don't like what you're trying to imply."

Remus had been quiet this whole time, letting the women get at each other's neck, but now he seemed just as agitated as Hermione.

"I'm not implying, you're the one that's inferring," Tonks replied evenly, hair turning into a dark brown.

"Oh well then excuse me," Hermione said sweetly, "and please do enlighten me as to the true meaning of your comment."

"Tonks," Remus said placing a hand on his wife's arm, he shook his head at her when she turned to look at him. "You're making a big deal out of nothing."

"She was flirting with him!" Tonks blurted out.

"What?" Hermione responded sharply, "the nerve of you! And with Him?" Hermione said, voice raised while nodding her head towards the Dark Lord, "you really think I would set my standards that low?" She felt bad saying this, because in his real flesh, the Dark Lord was anything but at the bottom of the dating barrel. However, they didn't know that. "Plus I'm engaged!" Hermione added as an afterthought.

She stood up and straightened her dress turning to face them.

"You think I like living with Him? Having to fear that he might find a loophole around the vow and hurt me, does that sound like fun, Tonks? Well I can assure you it isn't, and the only reason why I am doing this is because none of you had the balls to do it." She finished with a hiss, her final words seemed to have hit home at the shadow that passed over Tonks face. "And you know what else?" Hermione went on, relishing the amount of power she felt over these people, she bent over the end of their couch and placed her hands, one on top of another, on the arm of the sofa. "I could tell Dumbledore I changed my mind about this project any day, and then one of you would have to take my place," she made sure to look at each and every one of her small audiences' faces before looking down at Tonks with a smile. "And I know who I would recommend."

The auror blanched at that; her jaw tightened and her hair curled up into tight purple curls. Feeling satisfied, Hermione turned on her heel and began walking towards the table of food along the wall. As she walked, she couldn't help but smile and feel proud. Man, she was good! She'd been so slick and cool, they way she'd moved around . . . every action and word had been so deliberate and calmly executed . . . she had made an impression on them for sure. Not being able to contain a grin, Hermione grabbed a glass of Gingerbread vodka punch to hide her glee while she sipped, her arm going around her waist. The look on Tonks' face . . . served the bitch right.

_Had I been flirting though?_ Hermione wondered, it hadn't felt like it. However, she may have screwed up in acting too casual around Him, which made them believe she was showing romantic interest. Out of curiosity, she turned slightly to her right and her eye darted towards where the Dark Lord was seated. He was alone, sitting pensively in his seat, his head propped up by his right hand while his left dangled a glass of wine over the armchair's arm. Alone but not lonely, Hermione thought with a small smile, that was the way to describe him, alone but not lonely . . . .

"Hermione," the brunette turned towards Ron's voice and frowned at the expression on his face.

"What's wrong, where's Ginny?"

"I can't find her," he said breathlessly, "I thought she would be back by now." He turned to where the Order was seated only to deepen his frown at his sister's disappearance.

"Well, uhm . . . " Hermione said while swallowing and trying to think of a course of action, "I am sure she's alright, Ron. They can't hurt her, after all. She probably ran off somewhere, Hogwarts is big," she added at the look of disbelief on his face.

"Why do you keep sticking up for the Death Eaters?" he snapped suddenly, "since when do you trust them so much?"

"It's not about trust, Ron," she snapped, "it's about stating the obvious! Ron!" she huffed and crossed her arms as he took off again having seen Dumbledore come into the room. Hermione watched him make a beeline towards the headmaster. Suddenly, she started feeling very sorry for their future daughter, because Ron would definitely be as protective or even more protective of her than of Ginny.

"Great," Hermione muttered turning back to the table, "I'm already finding out the cause of our future arguments."

Hermione turned to look back at Ron telling Dumbledore about the situation, before going over to his parents who were still on the sofa next to Remus and Tonks. Hermione sighed at the panic that would soon follow once Molly was let in on the situation. _Well_, she thought sarcastically, _even if the party was no fun, at least it is proving eventful. _Hermione knew that she should be as worried as Ron and the Weasleys, but for some reason she just wasn't; she was certain that Ginny was alright. Then, to prove her belief, Ginny came into her eye line looking worriedly at her parents, Ron and Dumbledore who had all been huddled in a tight circle.

"Ginny!" Molly squealed seeing her daughter coming towards them, "where were you? What is wrong with you! How can you go off like that knowing the situation we are in?" _Well, that's an elegant way to put it,_ Hermione thought casting a glance at the Dark Lord who was now, along with quite a few people in the room, watching the proceedings. He looked amused however.

"I just went up to Gryffindor tower, to see my old room," she told her mother.

"For that long?" Ron snapped. Ginny looked at him with furious eyes.

"Ron, I'm 20 years old, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, I don't need you watching my every move!" Ginny broke away from the group and started coming over to the food table where Hermione was, not so much for her company but for the alcohol waiting to be consumed.

"Hey, Hermione," Ginny said briefly, no doubt expecting Hermione to give her a similar lecture.

"I'm really starting to rethink having a daughter now," Hermione muttered turning to look at the redhead.

Ginny smiled, cracking her tense façade. "I know, I'm twenty years old, and he still treats me like I'm 10! I can't even imagine what any daughter of his would have to put up with."

Hermione nodded absentmindedly as Ginny drank eggnog. Just then, she heard Ron calling her. He waved for her to come over; Tonks was next to him, an annoyed look on her face. Knowing what was coming up, Hermione sighed and dragged herself towards her fiancé. She couldn't believe Tonks would tell him her cock and bull suspicions, what had gotten into her, anyway? A few minutes before they'd been getting along perfectly well, and then Hermione comes back and Tonks is being the bitch Hermione would've never associated with her.

"What's going on," Hermione said for a greeting as she sat down next to him on the couch. She tried to appear calm and innocent, as if she didn't know what was about to go down.

"Nothing, I just don't want you standing there all alone," he said putting his arm around her shoulders. She smiled mechanically and leaned in towards his embrace throwing Tonks a glance, the auror however was busy talking to her husband. So she hadn't told Ron . . . good, maybe she'd realized the stupidity of her assumption now.

"Ginny's mad?"

"Yeah," Hermione said closing her eyes, her head was resting on his chest. The alcohol she'd consumed was making her drowsy, and it wasn't even that late. "You really have give her more free rein, though," Hermione mumbled with eyes closed, "she is not a child, you know."

"I'm just protecting her, besides, I'm not overbearing," he responded.

Hermione opened her eyes at this. "You are, and I am already feeling sorry for our future daughter."

He laughed at this, his chest making her head bounce uncomfortably. Hermione straightened herself up and smiled at him, a tired smile.

"We should blow off this miserable party," Ron muttered suddenly, eyes glinting. "Go back home and –"

"Stop," a smiling Hermione hissed, hitting him on the chest, "it's not appropriate!"

Ron jokingly hugged her, and buried his face in her neck while muttering about Hermione being a tight ass; Hermione smiled while arching away from him, his breath tickled her neck.

"And I mean that in the two definitions of the word," he mumbled causing Hermione to blush and push him off.

"Stop!" she hissed, "you're being horrible."

Hermione turned in time to see the Malfoys looking down at them. Dumbledore was at their side beckoning for them to take a seat in an empty couch facing the suspicious Order members. Hermione and Ron straightened up and glanced up at the headmaster with a questioning look. Hermione noticed that most people were doing the same, except for Arthur Weasley who was taking large drinks of an amber colored liquid, a frown on his forehead. Hermione could tell he was trying hard to not fall into the usual Malfoy-Weasley feud. Lucius matched Arthur's countenance of suppressed rage, and he kept throwing haughty glances at all the Order members. Narcissa, a lady in all but name, sat ramrod straight, hands on her lap toying with a glass of red wine. She looked very stylish in an emerald skirt-suit with a gold brooch on her breast.

"Where's Tom?" Dumbledore said suddenly, turning around his seat to the corner the dark forces had secluded themselves in only to find Voldemort's spot empty. "He should be here."

Hermione almost felt her eyes going wide. "I don't think that's a good idea, professor," she said quickly.

"Who's Tom?" Mr. Weasley asked. The rest of the Order members looked just as confused except for Ron who tightened his hold on Hermione, and she wondered if that was a gut reaction or if he had been let in on something.

"Hermione, since you have experience with both groups, I am putting you in charge of making sure Lucius and Narcissa feel welcome," Dumbledore said standing up, "I'll be back in a little bit."

Hermione watched him go through the hall, stopping to look among the dancing couples, only to then go out the doors leading to the Great Hall. Hermione hoped he wouldn't find the Dark Lord; she didn't want Him near when she was with Ron, it would be so awkward. Once more, Hermione shook her head, and mentally scolded herself as she looked back down towards her hands in her lap, why would it be awkward? it's not like she had feelings for the Dark Lord! Not even an attraction . . . although he was very good looking and intelligent, but that was merely an observation and meant nothing in the way of romantic interest.

"Narcissa, you look very pretty," Hermione said with a smile, "you're always so stylish."

"Thank you," the blonde said briefly, she was trying hard to mask her discomfort, "so, must be nice to be home, with your fiancé," she added.

"It is, it is," Hermione said a teethy smile, she hadn't spoken with Narcissa before, only Lucius, and the latter was too engrossed with his snake-head cane to talk to anyone. "So how's Draco?"

"He's well," Narcissa said briefly with various nods.

"Where is he?" Ron asked suspiciously, Hermione glared at him.

"He went to the Slytherin common room to reminisce on his school days," Narcissa said lightly.

"Really? That's what he told you?" Ron said derisively, "wonder what that ferret's really up to."

Hermione didn't even want to look up to see the Malfoys' face; she turned to her fiancé and nudged him. "Ron," she said firmly while giving him a disapproving look.

"Ferret? Why do you call him that?" Lucius said coldly.

"Ron, where's Ginny?" Arthur asked ignoring Malfoy and talking over him.

"Oh no," Hermione muttered.

"I believe I was speaking first, Weasley," Malfoy snapped while raising his voice, "I know you grew up in the slums, but I would think you would know by now to not interrupt people while they're speaking."

"I don't care what you think, Malfoy, all I care is that your son gets nowhere near my daughter."

"Your daughter would be so lucky," Lucius huffed with a smirk, "my son wouldn't get near that blood traitor redhead wench with a ten foot pole!"

"Shut the fuck up, Malfoy!" Ron snapped, standing up along with his father.

"Ron, shut up! You can't fight because of the vow, remember?" Hermione said loudly while standing up.

"Arthur!" Molly snapped, "not in front of the children!"

"Don't you dare talk about my daughter like that you sick Death Eater piece of shit!" Arthur yelled taking a step toward Lucius, who by now had stood up, hand clasping his silver snake-headed cane.

"Lucius! The Dark Lord will be angry!" Narcissa told her husband.

"Put those blood traitors in their place, Lucius!" Hermione heard Rodolphus calling out; he and other Death Eaters had moved towards their area and formed a semi-circle. Hermione sent a frustrated look at Rodolphus. Really, did that man ever stop looking for ways to make Lucius anger the Dark Lord?

"Such language, Weasley," Lucius snarled attempting to maintain his cool composure, "after we win this war I'll make sure to get you and your family auctioned off as servants lowlier than house elves, and as for that daughter of yours she'll be a great asset in the whore house."

Hermione screamed Ron's name as the latter launched himself at Malfoy after Arthur. Narcissa jumped up and away as if she'd been stung when both Weasley men tackled her husband on the couch. _Hand combat is allowed within the vow?_ Hermione thought as she began recollecting the exact vow and trying to see how that loophole – _oh for fucks sake not now!_ She practically yelled at her academically wired mind.

Hermione stepped back as the belligerent Thorfinn Rowle came to Lucius' aid followed by Macnair and Dolohov. It seemed the Death Eaters had come to the same realization as Hermione and were eager to ease their pent up frustrations any way they could. And so the brawl grew, until more than half of the Death Eaters and Order members were throwing punches, kicks, chandeliers, chairs, anything within reach. Hermione led the rest of the wives to the furthest corner from where they continued their screaming for the men to stop. Then, Hermione ran out the grand hall and stopped at the Entrance Hall, how was she going to look for Voldemort or Dumbledore? The brawl would be over before she even searched half the castle! Suddenly, she had an idea, running back into the Grand Hall; she rushed towards the women and looked through their ranks looking for Bellatrix who was nowhere to be found. Hermione cursed inwardly, but then she spotted Alecto Carrow, and she rushed towards her.

"Alecto!" she called out, "I need to see your mark."

"Why?" the Death Eater said suspiciously.

"I need to call Him," Hermione said briefly and outstretched her hand. "So he can end this."

Alecto looked weary, Hermione lost her patience.

"Alecto! Give me your arm or I will tell the Dark Lord you were involved in this brawl by not notifying him of his Death Eater's irreverent actions!"

Hermione grabbed Alecto's outstretched arm and placed her hand on the tattoo, Hermione felt it heat up at her touch, but it must've burned Alecto for she drew her arm back. Hermione didn't protest, she was sure He'd heard their call.

Voldemort must've felt the urgency of Hermione's call, or maybe he had heard the brawl when he Apparated outside. Either way, both doors were thrown open, and he walked in, his irate eyes never leaving the yelling and fighting group that constituted the Order of the Phoenix and Death Eaters.

All the women were quiet with apprehension; Hermione watched as the Dark Lord stopped a safe distance away from the quarreling group and made a circular swishing motion with his hand which caused the quarreling group to be blown apart, literally. Those closest to the mini hurricane flew a few feet from their opponent before landing, while the ones on the outskirts simply fell back. Hermione could hear them wheezing and gasping for breath, it was then that she noticed that a lot of them were hurt: cut lips and broken noses were abundant, there were even a few men who had been completely knocked out.

"Dumbledore and myself step out for five minutes, and you resort to _this_?" the Dark Lord said slowly while crossing his arms. "My Death Eaters you have disappointed me, I didn't think you would let the Order's uncivilized Muggle ways rub off on you."

"Weasley started it, my lord, he attacked me," Lucius said, straightening his robes as much as he could while dabbing his bleeding lip with a handkerchief. His left eye was also swollen and red from their fist fight.

"I wouldn't have done anything if you hadn't made passes at my daughter!" Arthur snapped, he was laying on a sofa while wheezing and holding his hand to his ribs which seemed to be broken.

"I never made passes, I just painted her for what she truly is, and you didn't like it!" Lucius snapped, Arthur made to get up.

"You fucking, pureblood, son of –"

With disdain, Voldemort made a swatting motion at Arthur who was pushed back onto the couch, the redhead let out a cry when his broken ribs made contact with the sofa. Molly let out a small cry and made to go towards her husband, but Hermione held her back and shook her head. "Not with Him," she said quietly, "Arthur can hold on for a few moment, don't worry." It was then that she noticed Bellatrix come through the doors quietly and stand there surveying the spectacle. Tassels of her hair had fallen out of the bun she had put it in, and now Bellatrix was trying to discreetly push the hairs back into place.

"Ms. Granger!" Hermione snapped her gaze away from the sex-haired Bellatrix as she heard Voldemort calling her. He wasn't even looking at her.

"Yes?" Hermione said somewhat loudly.

"Where's Dumbledore?"

He turned around to face her.

"He went to look for you," Hermione said, her eyes fixed onto his. "He hasn't been back since."

Voldemort continued holding her gaze; Hermione didn't say nor do anything for she knew he was thinking. At first it had unnerved her how sometimes he would just stare into a person's eyes while thinking about what to do. However, it was a very smart strategy because it caused the person to become unnerved and scared the more time that went by like this which bid him time to think while being intimidating. At least that was the theory, but on Hermione it only worked half the time and lately, none of the time. However, that was no reason for the Dark Lord to despair. Once he had allowed himself in her mind and seen her reasoning behind his tactic; he had almost smiled, the girl was certainly unique. Instead of being unnerved by it, she had become curious, and said curiosity had let to her figuring out his motives, and so now, just like anything that becomes understood, the mystery and fear disappeared.

The Dark Lord blinked and turned away from the girl.

"We're going," he said briefly, he turned back towards Hermione. "You're coming?"

Hermione walked towards him so that she wouldn't have to call out her answer. "I can't," she said once she was close, "my parents want Ron and I to go have dinner with them. It's Christmas, you know, family time . . . " she finished. "I'll come first thing in the morning, though."

He nodded once, lips pursed slightly. "Fine."

He turned around and began walking towards the doors, the Death Eaters following him slowly and painfully as most of them hadn't yet cured their injuries.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! I am really excited to be getting this chapter out, so I'm not going to name each person that reviewed, but I hope that this chapter makes it worth the month I made you wait ( I could've sworn it was only two weeks!)

* * *

It was almost 5 in the morning by the time Ron and Hermione made it back home, and they were both exhausted; however, Hermione felt more unfortunate because even though he had to go to work in a couple of hours, she would have to deal with a highly irritable Dark Lord.

Deciding she would worry about that in a few hours, Hermione entered her room looking forward to the sight of her bed more than anything else in the world. Her attention became piqued with curiosity; however, when she saw an envelope laying on her bed. It was from Him. Sliding the envelope open and pulling the letter out, Hermione lay down on her bed with a sigh and rested her head against the headboard.

_Hermione,_

_There will be a New Year's celebration at the mansion; so make sure you pack accordingly. And no, you can't wear what you wore last night because you've already been seen in it. Also, let Bellatrix now._

_Ass,_ thought Hermione with a grin, because as soon as she had read 'celebration' her mind had gone to the now crinkled red dress she was still in. It was so arrogant of him… Hermione smiled, his pompousness was strangely endearing.

"Fine," she muttered putting his letter back in the envelope and placing it in the side drawer, "I'll go shopping today."

Then, her memory gave her a mental slap, she was supposed to be back at the mansion by 8am!

"Crap," she muttered sitting up and trying to think of a solution, finally she summoned parchment and a quill and began writing.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

Hermione sighed. "He sent me a letter, wants me to bring a dress or something nice because they're going to have a New Years party. Oh," she looked up at Ron who was holding a mug of coffee, "could you let Bellatrix know when you go by headquarters today? He told me to tell her."

"Why can't he tell her? And why wouldn't he tell her last night?"

"How should I know?" Hermione said a tad exasperated, "this is the Dark Lord we're talking about; he's not exactly the most predictable person, he doesn't give explanations for what he does, he just tells you to do it."

"Well, I'm not taking orders from him," Ron muttered bellicosely.

"I'm the one that's telling you to do this."

Ron moaned and rolled over on his side so that his back was towards Hermione. "Fine."

"Fine," Hermione repeated with a smile while getting up to change out of her dress.

* * *

It was almost 11 when the Dark Lord Voldemort awoke, the annoying light filtering in through the blinds were what did the trick. Throwing them a dark glance and giving a brief wave with his hand, the curtains were shut, leaving him in complete and comfortable darkness. However, after twenty minutes of laying there trying to recuperate the elusive blanket of sleep, he finally decided to call it a night. He showered, dressed and stepped out to his office; out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that his meticulously clean desk was tainted with a spot of white. Upon turning his head, he noticed it was an envelope. He summoned it and opened it while walking out of his rooms and down the hall.

_My lord,_

_I will be joining you later today as I need to go shopping for a dress since you disliked my red one so much. I'll be there by four._

_Yours truly,_

_Hermione "fashion disaster" Granger._

As soon as he finished reading, he realized he was smiling. A flash of panic and a quick glance later to make sure no one had seen, and the Dark Lord's visage regained its blank, cold quality. A house elf bowed as he entered the small morning hall, Voldemort didn't even glance at him, and instead went straight towards the table and sat down.

"Bring me parchment and a quill," he said while pouring himself a cup of tea. The house elf disappeared with a crack and the Dark Lord started serving himself a piece of toast. A second later, Voldemort heard the elf pop back in, and he held out his hand where the elf placed the requested utensils.

"Master, need anything else?"

"Wait."

_"Fashion disaster" Granger,_

_I am glad to see you are at least making an effort. Just because you are a lost cause doesn't mean you should stop trying after all. Did you tell Bellatrix?_

_Ps. I never said I didn't like your dress, just that you'd already been seen in it._

Voldemort folded the letter and gave it to the elf. "Send it off and don't read it."

* * *

Hermione entered into the third muggle clothing store that day, she had gone to Diagon Alley first but hadn't found anything that she liked and was in her budget. So, instead, she had decided to go to a Muggle store; she knew the dark wizards would probably taunt her for it, but it's not like she could afford the dresses she had seen at the exclusive wizarding store, Bullocks. It was when she was looking through a rack of black dresses that she heard the shop girls causing a commotion, she turned around and saw an owl flying into the store and going straight towards her. The breath caught in her chest as the owl landed on her shoulder and held out its leg.

"Oh my god!" one of the shop girls said coming towards Hermione, the other two were staring.

"Uh . . . it's my friend's, he trains owls for a living, kind of like falcons are trained." Hermione tried to explain while appearing nonchalant, but her red face gave her away. Shaking, she took the letter off the owl's leg and pocketed it. The owl bit her ear sharply causing the shop girls to screech; one of them suggested calling animal control.

"No, no, it's my friend's, he must be training this one, and so he wants me to write a letter and send it back with this owl. . . uhm . . . ." Hermione fumbled around for a piece of paper; when she finally found one, she scribbled a quick note, and gave it to the owl who instantly flew off her shoulder. The shop girls screeched one last time. Hermione laughed nervously. "He's a bit ecentric, my friend, you know training owls to deliver mail!" she laughed nervously while making her way towards the exit. "Okay, thank you." She hurried out.

Cursing the Dark Lord to his last ancestor, Hermione walked a few more blocks, and when she was in a less transited area, Disapparated to Diagon Alley where she withdrew the letter from her pocket and read it, with a smirk, she pocketed it and headed towards the post office to reply; however, she remembered that the Dark Lord was untraceable. With an eye roll, the witch sat down on a bench. She hadn't found a dress, and the morning was almost gone. She sighed and took out her phone.

"Hey mom."

"Hey darling, what's going on? Did you two arrive okay last night?"

Hermione ignored the looks she was getting from the magical transients who thought she was crazy for talking into a box next to her ear. So first the owl in the muggle store, and now the cell phone in the magical world. _Great, just, great, you're on a roll, Granger._

"Yeah, we're fine . . . it's just, I need a dress for a New Year's party, and I came to Diagon Alley, and I couldn't find anything and then in normal stores, I just . . . don't know what to choose." Hermione looked down at her feet, she was frustrated.

"Oh, honey," her mother's voice softened, she knew of her daughter's frustration with fashion. "How about you come home, and we'll go together, okay?"

"You have time?"

"Of course, we haven't done something like this in so long, and once you get married and start a family there will be even less time for us to spend together."

Hermione smiled. "Thanks, mom."

* * *

_Can't talk right now, sorry. Talk to you later._

Voldemort frowned and raised an eyebrow as he crumpled up the note and threw it in the garbage bin. _What does she mean she can't talk right now . . . bitch. If only I could crucio her for her insolence . . . on the other hand, I do have to go down and torture that high ranked ministry official for information, yes, that would certainly take the edge off . . . ._

"It's disgusting, I am done for now," he snapped at the elf while standing up, pushing his plate of toast away and whirling out of the room, leaving the poor elf inflicting pain upon himself and letting out small shrieks while doing so.

* * *

"What about this one, honey? Do you like this one?"

Hermione frowned slightly as she saw the pastel green dress her mother was holding up. "It's a bit too low cut for me."

Jean turned to look at the dress. "Really? Oh well."

Hermione let out a small smile as she turned her attention back on the small cluster of dresses, truth was that she had liked that dress, along with most of the ones she had seen at Bullocks so far; however, every time she caught a glimpse of the price tag, she pretended she didn't like it. She felt bad about making her mother spend that much.

"Hermione, I don't know what you're looking for," Jean commented, "every single dress you find something to critique."

"I guess I'm just very picky," Hermione said with a sheepish grin.

"Oh this one's beautiful," Jean whispered taking a silver dress off the rack and holding it up. Hermione really liked it, it had an interesting square neck- line and was made out of satin. Before she could look at the price tag, her mother handed it to her. "You're trying it on." She grabbed her by the arm and dragged her towards one of the attendants.

"My daughter would like to try this on," Jean said.

The attendant smiled and took the dress from Hermione. "Sure, if you'd follow me." She went into the fitting rooms, unlocking one and going in. Hermione and Jean followed her into the large, opulently decorated room. "Let me know if you need anything," the girl said with a teethy smile before leaving.

"This is just like Harrods," her mother said with a smile while taking a seat and staring at the four full-length mirrors surrounding a podium Hermione was standing in front of.

"Yeah, the prices definitely seem to be a par with Harrods'."

"Stop worrying about the money, dear, it's good for you to have at least one expensive dress. Besides, I scheduled a surgery for next week and got the deposit today, so I can afford to indulge you."

Hermione sniffed humorously.

"Well, go on then!" Jean urged motioning towards the dress that hung behind her daughter. Hermione undressed silently and then slipped into the dress, it was a tight fit, and for a moment she felt that it wouldn't fit, but it zipped up with ease.

"Oh, Hermione, that dress looks like it was made for you!" gushed Jean.

"It's way too tight…" Hermione muttered staring at herself in the mirrors, the dress seemed to have an internal corset which made it cling to her every curve, particularly her backside. "How about we pick something looser, like a babydoll . . .?"

"No, you're getting that dress," Jean said firmly, "don't be so scared of your body, honey."

"I'm not scared _of_ my body, I am scared of the reactions my body in this dress might elicit," Hermione hissed.

"Well, Ron will be there, and I'm sure once he sees you in that dress he will make sure everyone knows you're with him," Jean said. Hermione was silent for a while, simply staring at herself in the mirror from all angles.

"I guess," she said finally and began taking the dress off.

* * *

Just as Ronald entered his cubicle that morning, a flash of light appeared over his desk and a tiny version of Fawkes hung over his desk only to dissipate seconds later. Knowing what that meant, Ron gave a silent groan, this would look suspicious . . . leaving his briefcase on the desk, he turned to go out of his cubicle.

"Leaving so soon?" his neighbor asked.

"My fiancee summoned me, seems to be important," Ron said, "I'll be back later, can you let Griffin know? Say it's a family emergency."

"You think she's pregnant?" the blond man went on, he had spinned his way out of his cubicle and was leaning back into his wheeled office chair.

"I guess I'll find out," the Weasley boy said with a shrug, Merlin he hated lying.

"Let me know," his coworker called out spinning back into his cubicle.

"Yes, Rupert, you'll be first to know, don't worry," Ron said sarcastically. as he got into the elevator and went down to the atrium where he headed straight for the fireplace and flooed to his house. From there, he Apparated to headquarters. His mother was waiting for him next to the fireplace with a smile.

"Ron, Harry's here!"

"Really? Where?" Ron said, all previous annoyance beginning to fade.

"Oh, how I wish Hermione could come! Do you think she would be able to come just for the afternoon? She needs to eat well, and we're having a dinner tonight for Harry."

"I don't know, try flooing her!" Ron called out going into the meeting room, excitement flooding his body. When he went in, he found a good number of Order members along with Dumbledore and Harry.

"Harry!" Ron called out with a smile coming over to him and hugging him while giving him many pats on the back. Harry was strangely awkward during this show of affection and smiled forcibly. "So, how are you? Why'd you come back so soon?"

"My hunt ended early," Harry said.

Ron nodded silently. None of the Order members save for himself, Hermione, Ginny and Dumbledore knew that Harry had actually been Horcrux hunting.

"Well, so now there truly is no one in this organization that is doing anything worthwhile. Great, just great, why don't we throw a 'Welcome Back Potter Party' and invite the Death Eaters!" Moody snapped glaring at Dumbledore. Ron saw Harry tense, it was clear that he hadn't taken the news of the Alliance well.

Dumbledore fixed Alastor with an impassive glance and gave a quiet shake with his head.

"That sounds like a lovely idea, don't you think Potty boy?" Bellatrix sneered from a corner.

"Shut up, Lestrange," Harry snapped glaring at the cackling woman in the corner.

"Come on, Harry," Ron said grabbing him by the arm and dragging him out of the meeting room and up the stairs. "We'll talk in your room."

Harry stopped. "No, I don't want to stay in this house. Let's go for a drink, I need a drink. Wait for me downstairs, I'm getting my coat."

"Sure," Ron said stopping and going down the stairs while Harry continued going up. It was then that Ron remembered what he had to do; so, taking a deep breath, he went back into the meeting room and went straight for Bellatrix who was now staring at her darkly painted short nails.

"Bellatrix," Ron said briefly once he was besides her.

"Where's Potty boy? Was he so scawed to face the cwazy lady that he sends his fwiend?"

She cackled.

"Your master told Hermione to tell you that there's going to be a party on New Year's, and so I'm guessing he wants you in attendance," Ron finished seriously.

Bellatrix's face was serious as well, but hers had a slight frown.

"I thought it had been cancelled..." she said, "but you're saying He told her to tell me? So He told her first?"

"He sent her a letter last night," Ron said, he couldn't help but feel a little happy at Bellatrix's turbulent countenance.

"Is this some joke?" she snapped suddenly, Ron snorted.

"Joke? What would be the joke? Hermione got a letter from Him saying that there was going to be a New Year's party and to tell you, so she gave me the unpleasant task of informing you. End of story." He snapped and turned around walking across the room, past some Order members.

"It's not as simple as that, Weasley!"

Ron turned around glaring at Bellatrix who had stood up by now and looked to be hyperventilating. He also noticed his fellow Order members giving them quizzical looks. Ron stepped aside as Bellatrix stalked past him and out onto the foyer.

"Are you coming?" she yelled at him. Ron swept out of the room without glancing at the rest of the Order members, who were looking at him suspiciously and Ron cursed Hermione all the way to the foyer for having put him in such an awkward situation.

He found her tapping her wand against a wall leading down to the cellar.

"What are you doing?"

"You don't want to be overheard, do you?"

Ron watched as a pathway appeared where Bellatrix had done her wand movements. "There are secret passages in this house?" Ron asked astounded as he went in after her.

"This was a proper pureblood household once, Weasley," she snapped.

Apparently Kreacher must know of this room as well, Ron mused, for it was kept cleaner than the entire house.

"So what's the problem, Bellatrix? I don't want to be cooped up with you here any longer than needed," Ron said coldly.

"The problem is that the Dark Lord is trying to replace me with that mudblood bitch!" Bellatrix snapped, her eyes wide.

Ron frowned and crossed his arms. "Excuse me?" Normally, he would've yelled at Bellatrix for insulting Hermione, but he was too baffled by what she had said.

"He invited her to His birthday party, and told her to let me know!" Bellatrix spat turning around and throwing her arms up, "as if I was nothing more to him than a mere acquaintance! He's been acting strange lately, too, he's been colder than usual..." she muttered wrapping her arms around herself. Ron was shocked to say the least, not only was he unnerved by this other side of Bellatrix, but by hearing that Voldemort might be interested in his fiancee.

"It's almost as if by having her tell me instead of telling me himself, He was telling me that it was over," Bellatrix went on in that same cracked voice.

Ron began shifting his weight from one foot to another. So now Harry wasn't the only one who needed a drink.

"You're crazy, you're just a crazy, jealous bitch," Ron said as he turned around and began walking towards the door.

Suddenly, he heard her cackling, it wasn't her usual cackle, this one sounded a little more miserable, but seeing the Bellatrix he was used to put him more at ease. Ron turned around when he heard her say joyously.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand the complexities of a mind much greater than yours, even I don't understand him completely, but I do know him better than anyone else," she said, she still had her arms around herself, but she was gazing up at the chandelier with a grin. "I don't deserve Him, He's too grand for one woman to have, and I had no right to think He was mine. This was His way of telling me that . . . my master, my intelligent, intelligent master," she finished quietly. Ron hastily went out the entrance and almost ran into Harry who was waiting for him by the entrance.

"Ron, where were you? Tonks told me you left with Bellatrix," Harry said worriedly, "are you alright?"

"Yeah, it's fine, I just need to go talk to Hermione," Ron said trying to make his voice sound even and nonchalant. However, his pale countenance, and his shaky, cold hands gave him away.

"Did she do anything to you?" Harry went on.

"No," Ron snapped, "I'll see you later, Harry."

He swept out of the Black house and Disapparated.

* * *

Hermione and Jean were laughing and talking as they stepped out of a shoe store, when Hermione's phone rang. Hermione stopped when she saw that it was an unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Hermione,"

"Ron?" Hermione said with a frown, stopping and walking to a nearby bench where she sat down followed by her mother. "Are you okay?"

"Where are you?"

"Shopping with my mom in Elyssian Alley, why? What's wrong?"

"I need to talk to you, come home."

"Ron, I -" Hermione took a look at her mom's watch, " I told Him I'd be there by four and it's already a quarter till."

"So, is He more important to you than I? I'm your fiance!"

"What? No!" Hermione said, "I just don't want him to get mad at me, Ron, what's so important?"

"Just come home!"

He hung up.

Hermione pocketed her phone and exhaled like a deflating balloon.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Jean said putting a hand on her back.

"I don't know, he won't tell me, he just wants me to come home. Thank you so much for everything, I'll call you tonight, okay?" Hermione said standing up.

Her mother nodded, but looked worried. "Please do, honey, and if you need anything, your father and I are here for you."

"I know, thanks." Hermione kissed her mother on the cheek before Disapparating home.

* * *

"Ron, what's wrong?" Hermione let out as soon as she Apparated into their house, her fiancé was sitting on the couch biting a hangnail with ferocious concentration. As soon as her voice broke his train of thought, he stood up and grabbed her arms bringing her towards him. Hermione took a step back involuntarily. "Ron!"

"Hermione, why do you think He would tell you before Bellatrix about this party?"

"Oh for fuck's sake," Hermione said a little angrily as she tried to break away from him, "honestly, Ron, I don't have time for –"

"He wants you, Hermione! He wants to seduce you!" Ron yelled at her.

Hermione stared at him with a frown. "And hasn't it ever occurred to you that if that were the case I would rebuff his advances?"

"But he's You-Know-Who, Hermione! He knows how to manipulate people, He would –"

"Ron, I am not going to leave you for Lord Voldemort," Hermione said loud and clear." And where did you get this idea anyway?"

"Bellatrix told me that by not inviting her and having you tell her about his birthday party, it was His way of telling Bellatrix it was off. She would know, Hermione, she's fucked up just like Him."

"Birthday party? It's a New Year's – oh," Hermione said, her mouth slightly open as she remembered the date Harry had confided in them a while ago: December 31st: Voldemort's birthday.

"Okay, but you have to keep in mind this is Bellatrix, and she's crazy and jealous and possessive. Anything would set her off, not to mention that I would never leave you for Him." Hermione said slowly while taking Ron's hand in hers, "Ron, don't worry. He's never made a move on me or anything, I am sure Bellatrix is just overreacting, but I assure you that if he were to make a move on me, I would not keep it quiet, and he can't hurt me because of the vow, so you shouldn't worry, Ron."

"How can I not worry when you're spending more time with him that me," Ron said rather resentfully.

"Ron, once this is over, we are going to get married, and then you'll be bored of me," Hermione said softly and with a smile, "I swear, you're going to get tired of me."

"No, I wouldn't," Ron said with a smirk.

"Yes, you will." Hermione smiled and kissed him for a few seconds, once they broke up, Hermione smiled once more and squeezed his hands. "Pay no mind to Bellatrix, she's a lunatic."

"I suppose, but please do take care, Hermione, and if anything –"

"Ron, I'll be fine," Hermione said as she went towards the fireplace, "and don't worry, this alliance will be over before we know it."

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm looking forward to the day we don't have to host Bellatrix's royal ass anymore."

Hermione laughed along with him as she grabbed floo powder and threw it in the fireplace. "Okay, bye."

She heard his 'good bye' almost like one hears an echo as the floo brought her towards her destination.

Hermione was surprised when she stepped straight into the Dark Lord's office.

"You're four minutes late," Voldemort informed her, not even bothering to look up from the book he was reading.

"I got caught up with stuff, sorry," Hermione said quickly while making her way out of the office and towards her room.

"Where are you going?"

"To unpack," Hermione responded, her body half turned. He waved her over; Hermione hesitated before taking dainty steps towards Him. "What?" she said softly once she was standing over Him. Surprisingly enough, she felt no power at all. She felt like a human that had just stumbled upon a coiled up snake ready to strike.

He smirked. "Did you tell her?"

"Ron did, I didn't go to headquarters," Hermione replied quietly.

"So, is she coming?" he went on while leaning back, clearly enjoying this.

"As if she had a choice," Hermione replied, a light frown coming over her. He definitely was up to something, maybe not what Bellatrix though, but there was definitely something lurking in the edges of His mind.

"We all have choices, Ms. Granger, " he replied.

"She'll come," Hermione said briefly.

"Good." He smiled and stood up. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

He grabbed her forearm and pulled her towards Him.

"What are you doing?" Hermione said through gritted teeth while throwing her weight back so as to resist his pulls.

"We have a meeting to go to, a meeting to which you've conveniently made me late."

"Fine, well, let's go then, but don't pull me like that . . . " Hermione said lowly while extricating her arm from his grip and walking alongside him.

"Like what?"

"Like you did before."

"It made you nervous?"

"No, I just didn't like it," Hermione said.

"Oh well, here I was thinking we were past all these formalities," Voldemort went on. Hermione chose not to respond and instead changed the subject.

"So what's the meeting about today?"

"What do you think?" he replied patronizingly.

Hermione sighed. "I guess it's too much to ask for a little variety." She stopped as he waved the door open and stepped aside allowing her to go first into the Death Eater-ridden room.

* * *

The first few torture sessions she had witnessed during the Dark Lord's meetings had perturbed her, and she had dreaded going to those meetings. However, after the first month of living with him and attending his weekly meeting, Hermione was a seasoned, desensitized voyeur. So when Crabbe was tortured for the second time that meeting after having failed to extract information from a certain ministry official, Hermione wanted to roll her eyes. Jesus, it was boring. It was always the same: 'crucio', the person rolls on the ground screaming and then stops when the curse is lifted only to plead for forgiveness after. It would've been pitiful if those certain Death Eaters didn't always fuck up, get tortured, plead for forgiveness, only to screw up again and go through the entire cycle once more.

Sometimes, Hermione would break the monotony by staring at Draco, who had been attending more and more meetings as of late. The boy had matured rapidly over the course of the last months; he was even no longer making childish remarks at Hermione; instead he, like his father, showered her with patronizing looks and attitude. It was because of this along with the general monotony of the meeting that, once it was over, Hermione couldn't hide the spring in her step as she and the Dark Lord meandered to the dining room.

"Glad to see you love my meetings so much, you practically hop out of the room once they're done," he remarked with a slight eye roll.

She sniffed looking up at him with a sideways smirk. "Well, the whole 'screw up, beg for my life, and then get tortured or killed' is anything but enjoyable."

"It bores you," he said bluntly while staring at her as they walked.

"Well, it gets a little monotone after a while," Hermione said with a slight shrug.

He said no more until they were seated at the table.

"So, how was life after Dumbledore's… 'party'." He quoted with his hands.

Hermione smirked. "It was fine, and don't be like that, Dumbledore did his best; it was your Death Eaters who, being pureblood and thus, supposedly the most civilized and refined of this society, started the fight."

"Is that what the Order has deceived themselves into believing? Well, that says a lot about you people," he replied curtly while pouring olive oil onto a small plate and dipping a small piece of bread in it.

"It was Malfoy that started it," Hermione said, her voice gaining the obstinate quality she was repudiated for in school.

"Ah ah," he responded, "your darling father-in-law is the one that lashed out, Malfoy simply retaliated; of course, he got punished nonetheless which is something, I am surmising, Dumbledore didn't do with Weasley even though he was more at fault. But then again, Albus has never had a firm hand which is why you people walk all over him." He finished his drawl with another piece of bread soaked in olive oil.

"We don't walk all over him, we respect him because of how forgiving and trusting he is," Hermione said sober-faced.

"Oh yes, Snape's respect for Dumbledore definitely helped him stick to your side, no?"

Hermione's grimace told Voldemort that he had gotten her there, and so he smirked patronizingly at her to acknowledge his victory. Snape had been found to be a traitor by the Order in her 7th year; after that, the potions master went fully into Voldemort's fold before getting killed in battle about a year ago.

"You've had your fair share of traitors, too," Hermione replied while her mind worked at light speed to come up with names.

"Enlighten me."

"Regulus Black," Hermione said, he was the only one she could think of. "He stole your Horcrux."

"He was killed right after, and I got the Horcrux back some time ago. Next."

"I don't have to give you any more names, we're even, we had Snape as a traitor, and you had Regulus."

He smiled his trademark closed-lip smile while leaning forward. "Peter Pettigrew."

Hermione cursed inwardly. He laughed.

"So that makes it . . . two traitors on your side, and only one on my side, who I should add, caused a mere inconvenience and no lasting damage." Voldemort brought a finger up to his chin and pretended to be thinking hard. "I wonder what that says about my methods versus those of Dumbledore."

This time, Hermione rolled her eyes. "At least we can sleep soundly at night."

"Oh I sleep _very_ soundly at night, Hermione, but if you're still in doubt, I most cordially invite you to spend the night at my side."

"You wish," Hermione replied with a smirk, "and you will continue wishing." However, even though she played off his come on with a cool and slightly flirty air, she was reminded of what Ron had told her. At that moment, Hermione felt bad at her reaction; she was engaged, she shouldn't be baiting the Dark Lord no matter how fun it was.

"For how long?" he replied.

"Forever," Hermione replied curtly, "I have to ask you something, why did you have me tell Bellatrix about the party? Why not tell her yourself?

"Because she is no longer in my camp," he said while sipping tea, "for the time being."

Hermione stared at Him warily, it couldn't be that simple, nothing for Him was ever that simple. He met her gaze, and silently stood up and went over to stand next to her seat, he leaned back comfortably against the edge of the table and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Why do you keep questioning me, Hermione?"

Hermione bit her lip and looked down while shaking her head slowly. "It's nothing, it's… stupid. Let's just forget about it, please."

Hermione felt his hand come down along her jaw, lifting her head until her eyes met his. "Hermione, we can do this in two ways: either you tell me yourself and avoid a headache, or you don't tell me," he added slowly while his thumb began to stroke her jawline, "and I force myself into your mind, and give you a migraine so bad you will beg me to rid you of that pretty little head of yours, and that would be a shame now wouldn't it?" he added with a whisper and a smirk. Hermione turned her head slightly away from his stroking thumb,

"Please don't," she whispered placing her hand on his and pulling it off her cheek.

"Tell me."

"I had Ron go to headquarters and tell Bellatrix that you owled me about the New Year's party, and that you wanted her to be there as well. So he told her, and she got jealous and told Ron that by not telling her and going through me, you were telling her that it was over, and that because you chose me to tell her, it was as if I was the new object of your attentions. So, of course, Ron went berserk, and I had to calm him down before he would even let me leave the house to come here." Hermione stood up. She felt uncomfortable with the height difference.

He stared at her for a few moments, Hermione blushed and looked away: his undivided attention was making her uncomfortable.

"Bellatrix was always blinded by emotion," he said finally, "well, I don't think I need to tell you that you should pay her no mind."

"That's what I thought, but now I'm not so sure anymore . . . ." She quietly hugged her body while giving Him an accusatory look.

"I'm not going to force you into anything, Hermione, I couldn't hurt you like that."

Hermione smiled and nodded. "That's uncommonly sweet of you to say."

"Not really," He replied much more briskly, "considering that to rape you would constitute a breach of the vow which would bring unbearable pain upon my person, and I've never branded myself a masochist."

Hermione rolled her eyes and fought hard to keep a smile off her face as she swept past Him and towards the door. "You are unbelievable."

"Well, come now, Hermione, you didn't honestly expect me to tell you that I cared about how you felt, now did you?" He called out from behind her. Hermione simply shook her head and bit her lip to keep from laughing while she sped up her pace; just as she went out the door, she heard him cackle.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione left a note on his desk telling Him she would be back for lunch because she was going to Diagon Alley to buy some things. The party was, after all, only four days away, and she still hadn't bought Him a birthday gift. She had decided to not let him in on the fact that she knew the New Years party was also his birthday celebration. As soon as she Apparated to Diagon Alley; however, the dubiousness of her task set in. What on earth would she get him? He liked books, but Hermione was sure that he would have any book that she might buy for him. Dark artifacts, she didn't want to risk, because her and Ron were already under surveillance, and if she were caught in Knockturn Alley purchasing Dark artifacts . . . well, she should basically start packing and getting ready to join Tonks, Lupin and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley at Grimmauld Place as a permanent resident. Eek . . . so what else should she get the particularly nitpicky Dark Lord?

Hermione sat down on one of the benches to think. He liked books, dark arts, snakes … well it's not like she could get Him a snake, he didn't need another one . . . . Speaking of, Hermione straightened up as another thought came into her mind. Where was Nagini? This whole time she had never seen or heard Him mention the snake, and from what she had heard from Harry, Voldemort had always been very protective of his pet. _I'll ask Him later,_ Hermione thought resolutely, she would make sure to be very casual about it. She stood up with a sigh, now she needed to find Him a birthday gift and sitting about while coming up with questions about his enigmatic actions, was not helping.

* * *

When Voldemort came back to the mansion in the afternoon, the first thing he did was head towards his room. He was tired and cold and sore. Merlin, he hated flying, but for this particular monthly errand, he couldn't take a jet since that would mean bringing the pilot along for the ride and disposing of the pilot at the end of the journey, which would only make it harder for him to get another pilot. So no, he was forced to sacrifice his comfort at least once a month. Everything had gone well, thankfully, and so at least now all he had to worry about was recovering, he thought as he took off his coat and threw it over the leather chair in the corner on the way to his bed. He also waved his hand at the fireplace, which sprung to life as his form dipped the bed and became shrouded by the black comforter.

The next time he gained consciousness, the room was pitch black. He didn't feel like he had slept for more than 20 minutes, but obviously he had, since even the fire had gone out. The clock on his bedside table indicated he had been asleep for almost four hours. With a sigh, he swung his legs over and stood up before lighting the chandelier on the ceiling and heading for his closet. It was a little over 8. He hadn't meant to sleep so much. He had a house call to make after all, and he had to look presentable, he thought with a smirk while getting some clothes off the racks, he was going to be flaunting a power he didn't think Dumbledore would've let his people in on.

* * *

That night, the Order was having a party for Harry's coming back. Mrs. Weasley had cooked up a feast with Ginny's help, and Fred and George had generously provided entertainment. Currently, the twins were on round two of their improv comedy show. Harry was in the middle of the sofa between Ron and Lupin; he was laughing and smiling, but it seemed a very shallow and distant shadow of what his laugh had once been. Dumbledore watched him quietly and a tad sadly for he knew that the war had finally taken a permanent toll on the boy. It was just as Dumbledore denied Mrs. Weasley's offer for more coffee, that he noticed Voldemort standing in the doorframe. Before he could say anything, Ginny gave a cry and made to stand up only to trip over her chair, Harry reached out in time to grab her and prevent her from falling back. Ron stood up and began digging frantically in his pockets for his wand while Mrs. Weasley, who had just returned from the kitchen with a hot pot of tea, screamed and dropped the tray.

"Now, really I'm not _that _bad-looking . . . " snake face Voldemort drawled while leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. Instead of assuaging the tense and fearful Order members who were in attack position, his nonchalant demeanor only heightened their fears.

"Tom! I told you only in the direst of circumstances –"

Voldemort's eyes widened as he shrugged a shoulder.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought they knew that I could come and go as I please to the Order headquarters!" He tried hard to keep a smile off his face, but the mirthful flame in his eye let everyone know he was enjoying this.

"Dumbledore!" Harry snapped looking foreboding.

"It's one of the clauses in the contract, but he can't do anything to harm us. He can only come when he wants to speak with me," the headmaster said looking at his startled Order members.

"But –" Harry started.

"Shall we?" Voldemort said interrupting him while motioning out towards the foyer.

Dumbledore walked out into the foyer followed by Voldemort who took the chance to flash one last, spurious closed-lip smile to the crowd.

"My lord!" Bellatrix called out from the room.

"Later!" Voldemort snapped from the hallway as he walked next to Dumbledore who lead him into a small sitting room on the right. The headmaster politely motioned for him to sit. "Don't you want to take your coat off?"

"I don't plan on staying that long," a black, pea coat-clad Dark Lord retorted.

"Well, then let's get to it. What do you need?" Albus said conjuring up a chair in front of the Dark Lord.

"When are we going to do something?"

Dumbledore blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, that it's been almost two months since this Alliance began and all we've accomplished is an Imperius potion, which I brewed," he said leaning forward so that his arms rested on his thighs. "I don't like the restrictions this Alliance had posed on me; however, I am willing to overlook them so long as I see some sort of result and so far, that has not been the case."

"We can't attack the ministry, yet," Albus said, "it's still very strong."

"And it's going to stay that way until we weaken it," Voldemort snapped. "We need to have a series of small attacks –"

"We don't have enough people for that," Dumbledore interrupted calmly. "Among the two of us we have barely 300 people, that's half the Auror force."

"Well, then we should target Scrimgeour's international campaign. Cut off his allies who have vowed to send troops."

"That's what I'm working on right now," Dumbledore said lightly.

"Well, then, once more I've done your work for you," Voldemort said sarcastically.

"Tom, you know that I would only agree to use your methods on the direst –"

"We agreed that we would do things your way, and see how they turn out. Well, it's now been two months from that conversation, and all we have to justify for all that time is a 20 ounce potion which, I will add, I made. Thus, as we agreed, it is now time to do things my way," he smiled lopsidedly while steepling his fingers.

Dumbledore surveyed him for a moment before dropping his gaze.

"What do you intend on doing?" he asked quietly just as Voldemort gave a triumphant smile and leaned back as comfortably as a pig rolling around in hay. The moment the Dark Lord's lips parted, Pandora's box was opened in Dumbledore's mind.

* * *

Hermione felt satisfied as she Apparated back to the mansion. She was sure he would be pleased with her gift, she was sure he didn't have it . . . although he most likely knew about it. All the same, Hermione decided to check and make sure he didn't have what she had bought. Hermione went to her room and dropped off her purchase before going back to the Dark Lord's rooms. She knocked and called out his name, but when she didn't answer, decided to let herself in. The Dark Lord wasn't in his study. Hermione crossed over to the door leading to his bedroom and opened it, no he wasn't there either.

"Deepti!" she called out.

"Yes, mistress?" the house elf said with a vow.

"Where's the Dark Lord?"

"He'll be back late today," Deepti said, "master said you should dine without him."

"Do you know at what time he will be back?" Hermione asked feeling a little blue, he was her only form of entertainment.

"No,mistress" the house elf said earnestly, "I is very sorry . . . ."

"No, it's alright," Hermione said with a smile. "You don't need to serve me dinner, I'll wait for him to come."

"Alright, mistress," the elf said, "you let Deepti know if you need anything."

Just as Hermione was about to thank her, she saw Malfoy out of the corner of her eye standing by the door which she had left open.

"That will be all, Deepti," Hermione said, the elf nodded and then Disapparated with a crack while the witch turned to look at her school nemesis who was gliding towards her with a smug smirk on his aristocratic face.

"You seem to be acclimating well," Draco commented just as Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the Dark Lord's desk. "I guess your bossiness has finally found an outlet with the house elves."

"What do you need Malfoy?" Hermione replied coolly.

"Well, since I'm in the Dark Lord's office," he said, his face scrunched up in fake concentration. Hermione rolled her eyes, "then maybe I want to speak with Him?" he looked up at Hermione.

"He's not here," she replied shortly.

"Yeah, I know, I saw you checking out his bedroom."

Hermione bit her the inside of her lip, she did not like the emphasis he had placed on the last word.

"I don't have time for this, " she breathed while getting her ass off the desk and uncrossing her arms. She swept past him.

"My, my," he went on, making Hermione roll her eyes. "Fancy new Granger is surely a sight to behold."

Hermione chose to ignore him and continue walking.

"I'm sure by next month you'll even start to look like Him!"

She turned on her heel at this. "What on fuck earth are you babbling about?"

He smiled and let out a small laugh. "You even walk like Him!"

Hermione crossed her arms and knitted her brow.

"Tell me, has your fiancé noticed your changes at all?" Draco went on, "or is he too worried making ends meet?

"I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy!" Hermione snapped.

"Ooh, getting defensive now are we? Still don't want to come to terms with it? That's alright . . . I get it."

Hermione rolled her eyes once more and took the remaining few strides she needed to leave the room; once out, she slammed the door to drown out Malfoy's laugh.

* * *

After half an hour of veiled threats and bleak outcomes, Voldemort was happy to report that Dumbledore had agreed to let Him handle the Alliance up until the ministry was sufficiently weakened and, judging by how weak in the knees Dumbledore seemed after only 30 minutes with the Dark Lord, Voldemort was sure the ministry would fall in record time. He stepped out behind the headmaster who, Voldemort noticed, seemed shorter than usual. It took him a few seconds to realize Dumbledore was starting to hunch over slightly; Voldemort felt a shudder come through him as the devastating effect of age presented itself before his eyes. However, before he could give it any further thought, he was accosted by Bellatrix who had been waiting for them in the small foyer. Hiding his displeasure, the Dark Lord turned around and went back into the sitting room while she followed like a dutiful dog.

* * *

"What happened?" Harry asked as soon as Dumbledore came back into the dining room. All the Order member crowded around the headmaster so as to make sure he was still in one piece.

"We just changed the plans a little bit," Dumbledore said, he was tired and didn't want to explain and deal with their moaning tonight. "It is nothing final, we have yet to come to an agreement (_they had_), and I will be discussing everything in detail tomorrow evening."

"What is it about though?" Harry pushed on, just as Dumbledore knew he would.

"Lord Voldemort just felt that things were moving a little slowly, and so he gave me ideas as to how we can speed things up."

That calmed then down, as Dumbledore knew it would, none of the people there wanted to remain under the Alliance's terms any longer than necessary.

"What do those ideas entail?" Harry nagged.

"Tomorrow," Dumbledore said with a note of finality while placing his hand on the boy's shoulder. "I bid you all a good night."

He Disapparated before anyone could ask anymore questions. Instantly, the room sprouted up into different conversations relating to the latest news. Ron and Ginny went up to Harry who had his head down on his palm and seemed to be in deep thought.

"It'll be alright, Harry, don't worry. You have us."

"He's still here," Harry muttered, apparently he had been clutching his head not in concentration, but in pain.

Ron's breath hitched. "What?" He looked around, neck stretched out.

"Bellatrix wanted to talk to Him," Ginny uttered, "remember?"

"Harry, are you alright, mate?" one of the twins said as they both came over.

"He's getting angry . . ." Harry said as his face became more scrunched up from the increasing pain.

"About what?" the other twin said as they leaned in toward Harry. However, before the latter could answer, their question was given a response directly from the source.

"THAT'S IT. IT'S DONE! IT'S OVER!"

The room went silent as the rest of the Order members came to the realization the teens had very recently.

"He's still here?" Mrs. Weasley hissed alerted as she looked up at her husband.

"Bellatrix wanted to talk to Him, remember?" Ginny told her mother who shushed her.

The sitting room had gone oddly quiet after the outbreak.

"He must've cast a sound deadening charm," Lupin muttered.

A few seconds later, they heard a door opening. Everyone in the room visibly tensed, and they held their breath as they heard His steps crossing the foyer and going out the door which he slammed shut as if to reassure them of His leaving.

"What the fuck, man?" George whispered to his twin.

* * *

"So when are you going to tell me what you and Dumbledore decided?" Hermione asked one more.

"Tomorrow," Voldemort said, "I'm tired."

"Oh, okay," Hermione said as she leaned back against his desk and watched him take his coat off. Ron had called her right after he had finished his visit to the Order to tell her that Voldemort and Bellatrix had had a fight, and of course, he and the rest of the Order wanted to know all about it. Hermione found it funny that he had called her. After all, they had agreed that he would only call her if it was an absolute emergency.

"Did you see Bellatrix?" Hermione asked casually.

He didn't respond, he was too busy fixing himself a drink. Hermione waited until he was done.

"They told you already?"

Hermione smiled. "Not much goes around in the Order headquarters nowadays. They leech onto whatever bit of gossip that comes their way."

He shook his head. "Tomorrow, or the day after . . . not now."

He set his drink down on the bar, and grabbed his coat as he went into his bedroom. "Good night."

"Night,"Hermione replied as she pushed herself off his desk and started walking towards the bar. Once there, she checked the racks, and even opened up the cabinet doors, but she was happy to see that he didn't have what she had gotten him. Good. Having accomplished one of her missions, Hermione returned to her room, ready for a good night's sleep.

* * *

It was when Hermione was standing in front of a full body mirror in her room, contemplating herself right before the party, that she wondered what her life was coming to: in the same week, she had attended two parties, and for Hermione that was a record for she had never been a party girl type. She always felt somewhat uncomfortable in them; however, tonight her discomfort was reaching unparalleled heights. Mainly, because of her dress, true it was beautiful and simple, and that it wasn't low cut or even that short (The hem landed right over her knees), but it was skin tight. It looked very good, from an objective point of view, but flaunted a lot more than Hermione wanted to reveal. She moaned silently as she turned to the side and stared at herself from that angle.

"Oh god," she muttered as her eyes landed on her ass which the dress seemed to want to emphasize. "No…no…no," she muttered horrified.

"You look wonderful, darling," the mirror said. Hermione shook her head.

"I look like a whore."

"You're being too harsh, a young woman like you should be flaunting her figure, and you do so in a very classy way with that dress."

Hermione turned away from the dissenting mirror and looked around her room while biting her finger. She hadn't brought her other dress . . . what was she supposed to do? Her thoughts were interrupted by the knock on the door.

"I hope for your sake you're ready," Voldemort called out from the other side of the door.

"Hold on! Don't come in!" Hermione called out, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. Why had he come to get her? Panicking, the brunette ran into the walk-in closet.

"Hermione!" she heard him complaining.

"One second," she said throwing on her cloak.

"Are you naked?"

"No! But –" she cut herself off as she heard Him coming in.

"Well then why can't I come in?" he said, she heard him pacing the room. With a sigh to collect herself, Hermione stepped out of the closet into the room where Voldemort stood wearing very smart, satin black robes. He would've looked quite dashing had he chosen to go with his birth face instead of the snake one which was currently contorted quite grotesquely as he stared at her.

"What is that?" he said, calmly enunciating each word. It was a false calm, Hermione knew, the calm that He put on to cover up the storm brewing inside.

"A cloak, I'm just really cold," she said and tried to smile.

"You're going to be taking that off before we leave the room, right?" he went on testily.

"Uhhh …" Hermione said looking down at herself. After a few seconds she looked up. "I'm not feeling well."

"Take the cloak off," he said resolutely, "unless you want me to do it for you."

"I . . ."

"Hermione, I am not going to be late because your prudish self can't take showing a little skin every now and then, and let me remind you, that my patience is as lacking as your self-esteem."

_Touche, my liege, touché_, Hermione thought as she slowly undid the fastenings of her cloak and painfully shrugged it off herself. Her hands came to her front where they began twisting anxiously as she shifted in her heels.

"For fuck's sake, Granger," he said rolling his eyes while grabbing her roughly and leading her out. "How do you and Weasley have sex? Do you leave your clothes on?"

"No!" Hermione said yanking her arm out of his grip and stopping in her tracks, "and don't walk that fast, I'm wearing heels . . . ." She calmly walked over to his side, making sure to glare at Him before they both set off once more.

"Why did you get that dress if you knew it was going to make you so uncomfortable?" he said after a few seconds of silent walking.

"My mom picked it out for me," Hermione muttered.

"And yet you still feel you look like a whore?" he said turning to gaze at her.

Hermione sent him a glance and a shrug. "We have different standards."

"So your mom's a whore," he said quickly.

"No!" Hermione snapped.

"Well then, why would she pick something out to make her daughter look like a whore?" he retorted.

Hermione didn't even look at the Dark Lord, although he did have a good point there.

After a few more seconds of silent walking, they reached the grand staircase and began descending it. Instantly, Hermione's stomach started doing somersaults; she could hear the crowd inside the grand hall.

"How many people are coming?"

"You look fine."

Hermione sniffed humorously as she looked up at Him. He shrugged and curved his lips into a smile. "It's true, you look very beautiful."

She smiled as they stopped outside the double doors. "Thanks."

Hermione's nervousness turned into awe when the doors parted, the hall had been completely decorated with ice sculptures and structures. As soon as they stepped in, the chatting stopped as the crowd, like the red sea, parted so as to allow them passage to the end of the hall where a small ice palace sat. It had been brightly illuminated with green and white lights which reflected off the ice walls making it look glowing green. Hermione was enthralled, and she let out a mental wow as they passed under an ice arch in the shape of two swans fighting. The lights had been dimmed almost completely, and the only lights illuminating the hall were those multicolored lights reflecting on the many intricate ice sculptures which made the latter into flamboyant and artful multicolored lamps. The bowing sea of people also added a nice touch, Hermione told herself as they went up the green carpet runner covering the stairs leading up to the ice mini- palace. She looked down and was momentarily entranced by the intricate snakes and flowers that had been woven in gold thread into the carpet.

_It truly is a work of art,_ she mused while looking up again. _Seeing all those purebloods bowing down before us. . . this is definitely something I could get used to,_ she added with a coy smile as they reached the top of the platform, went past a podium and stopped before the ice palazzo where two Death Eaters stood at the entrance. Hermione watched, shocked, as they grabbed the doors and pulled back the whole front of the mini ice palace, almost like they were pulling back curtains. Hermione brushed the surface as they entered and was shocked to find that it felt like solid ice . . . interesting. Inside the tent, there were more bowing people, 15 of them to be exact.

"Rise," Voldemort said, signaling for Hermione to come to a stop.

The three Malfoys, the Lestranges, Wormtail, Dolohov and a woman along with Crabbe, Goyle and their spouses stood up to face them.

"My lord, the decorations are beautiful!" the blonde wearing a burgundy crepe skirt suit gushed. Hermione tried hard not to smile at Narcissa's comment, it was just so like the well-heeled witch.

"I am glad it is up to your standards, Narcissa. After all, the Black seal of approval is not something easily achievable, I hear."

"Oh, my lord," Narcissa said covering her grinning mouth with her french manicured hand. "You are too kind." Hermione stared transfixed at Bellatrix whose face looked mask-like from the effort of containing her turbulent emotions caused by the exchange between her lord and her sister.

"Where's Macnair?" Voldemort went on as he looked around his inner circle.

"He went out into the hall, my lord," Rabastan said quickly before anyone else had the chance to answer the Dark Lord. "He left a few minutes before you came in."

"Why isn't he back? Didn't he see me coming in?"

"I would not know, my lord, I'm sorry."

"He came without a date, my lord," Rodolphus said, "he is probably trying to find one."

The Dark Lord's thin lips tugged up into a crooked smile." 'Trying' being the keyword."

Hermione didn't know if she was supposed to or not, but she let out a small laugh. Thankfully, she could see she wasn't the only one: the Death Eaters had drowned her out almost as soon as she'd laughed.

"What time is it?" the Dark Lord muttered to Hermione who shook her head slightly.

"I don't have a watch."

He turned away from her. "What time is it?"

"Almost midnight, my lord," Lucius answered.

"Tell the guards outside to prepare the crowd for my speech at midnight," Voldemort said as a clean faced blonde came up to him, took a glass of champagne off the tray and handed it to Him. Hermione was surprised when he then extended it to her, she took it hastily just as the other glass was handed to Him by the girl who then went back to the end of the room where the drinks and appetizers where.

Hermione sipped her glass. Champagne was her favorite alcohol; not to mention that she was still not entirely comfortable with her outfit, and so she figured the alcohol might help her relax.

"So, Ms. Granger, when are you seeing Dumbledore again?" Voldemort said loud enough so that everyone in the tent could hear.

"When I go home on Friday," Hermione said, not sure if she should look at Him or everyone else in the room who was listening to the conversation. The girl almost kicked herself when she started turning red.

"Well, when you see him, now you can tell him how a real celebration should be organized," he drawled looking away from her and towards his inner circle. "Not like that so called party of his, with his trite decoration, inept service staff and watered down alcohol."

"What didn't you like about the decoration?" Hermione asked, feeling just a tad insulted.

"The hall had the same decorations that they put up every year around Christmas time. He didn't add anything else to make it look like he'd actually made an effort."

"And the elves as servers, also preposterous," Draco added, staring straight at Hermione who was biting her lip. "House elves are some of the dumbest creatures on this earth, what are they to know about serving etiquette? Why they would just come and hold out the trays as if they expected _us _to take the drinks off the tray."

"Well, I suppose they made a mistake in assuming you were intelligent enough to know that when something is handed to you, you should take it," Hermione replied, trying to keep the snap off her voice and a smile on her face.

Voldemort actually cackled at this while Draco turned redder than Hermione would've ever thought possible; she had to pinch herself to prevent the satisfaction she was feeling, show on her calm countenance.

Just then, one of the guards stepped in and addressed Voldemort.

"My lord, it's two minutes to midnight."

Hermione realized that the noise of voices outside was gone, and it was now completely quiet save for a few whispers as everyone waited for the speech.

Finishing the glass of champagne in one gulp, the Dark Lord stood up and handed his glass to one of the elegantly dressed servers who had rushed over as soon as He stood up. Hermione stood up, too, when she noticed all the other Death Eaters doing so. She followed them out feeling nervous because she had no idea what they were going to be doing while the Dark Lord was giving his speech. Not to mention that she was no longer next to the Dark Lord who was the only one she felt comfortable with.

Hermione was at a loss as they stepped out of the ice palazzo and onto the platform facing hundreds of concentrated eyes down below. Hermione swallowed and looked around at the other Death Eaters, they were forming a line in front of the ice palace; she watched as they shifted spaces according to rank, with Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix in the middle, right behind Voldemort who was at the podium now. Hermione, not knowing where else to go, meandered over to the end of the line where Wormtail stood, Hermione mentally kicked herself that she would have to stand to his right and, thus, at less stature than Pettigrew. But it's not like she was a Death Eater, so why should she even care? _Oh, but it's not about being a Death Eater or not, its basic human dignity_, Hermione told herself as she boldly came in between Wormtail and the Carrows so that Pettigrew was still at the end of the line. Hermione focused her eyes on the back of the room so as to not look at anyone in the audience, she couldn't imagine what giving a speech in front of these many hundreds of people must be like.

The Dark Lord had begun his speech, and Hermione chanced a glance at Him. He looked calm and collected, very much in control. Did he ever get nervous at all? Hermione wondered, was he so gifted with words that he had never known what stage fright was? Currently, he was touching up on the Alliance. It was rather vague, Hermione thought, but then again, the audience were not a part of the inner circle, and as such could not be trusted. As she looked at the audience; however, Hermione wondered if the Dark Lord had lied about the number of troops he had, because there was definitely more than the 300 or so that he had told Dumbledore. _But he can't have lied, it's a vow they took, and he signed a magical contract. _These people must be supporters then, low ranked Death Eaters and supporters. Hermione tore herself away from her thoughts when she heard him mentioning the Order.

"We are involved in a war which we did not want, and Albus Dumbledore along with his Order know this. Otherwise they would not have dared stretch out their hand to our side. Albus Dumbledore thinks he can use us, to kill the minister for Him! Why the other day, he tried to make me believe that this Alliance was in _my _best interest!" Hermione watched as the crowd started booing and saying very mean things to the Order and the headmaster, she forced herself to maintain an impassive visage; however, the slurs were growing by number. Hermione focused her eyes back on Him, the swayer par excellence of all crowds, his head was down, and his hand up as he asked for silence so as to continue. Within seconds, the crowd had quieted; however, he did not continue his speech. Instead, he kept his eyes down on his paper as if he were alone in the room. Hermione started feeling a bit uneasy; she noticed the audience was feeling the same way. After a few more seconds, when the anticipation was so thick you could cut through it like a cake, he raised his head and went on. Almost as soon as he started back up, Hermione understood his play, and she had to fight hard to keep the smile off her face: by making everyone anxiously await for him to talk, he had increased their concentration tenfold, thereby making himself the only point of interest for every single person in the room who was now hanging onto his every word.

_Oh he is clever, so ridiculously clever. . ._.Hermione mentally slapped herself as her imagination, encouraged by what she had just witnessed, made her think of very naughty things involving the Dark Lord.

"(…)This time they are not up against a weakened Dark Side, as they were just a few years back. This time, they have joined battle with a Dark Side which is mobilized to the limit of her power, able and resolved to fight. However, should the other side entertain hopes to the contrary, then I can only say to those fools: you will see( he paused), and you will wish that you had chosen the right side, for you will know when you see us that we are not out to win a _battle_ (his voice gained a derisive tone and increased in octaves along with the cheering of the crowd) we are out to win the final victory!"

Hermione felt a flutter of excitement in her stomach, his oratory was simply amazing. He had managed to rouse not just his side, but her as well, and He was the enemy, pitting everyone against her side! But such was the beauty of his word. She watched him wait until the crowd calmed down from their frenzied state, his expression going back to that of a poker face. She liked to think of his face as a blank canvas, at the beginning of the speech, it had been blank; as the speech went on, and his words roused the crowd and himself, his countenance became tinged with brushstrokes of pride, anger, and ecstasy. Once the 2nd section of his speech had been done, and the crowd had gone wild, all emotion slipped off his face, and it became a blank canvas once more, ready for the painter to create a masterpiece.

"It is a wonderful idea of community which dominates our people. That this ideal (he held up his hand as if he indeed, held the ideal), that our whole strength should be preserved in the coming year-this should be our wish today. That we will work for this community-let that be our vow. That we conquer in devotion to this community-that is our faith, and that we rule with this community alone – let that be our mission."

Hermione smiled as he stepped away from the podium to indicate his speech had come to an end. The crowd was elated, and they clapped thunderously for a good minute straight as said Dark Lord smiled with closed lips and extended his hand in acknowledgement to the crowd before turning and going back into the ice palace, Hermione, at his heels.

"My lord, that was a wonderful speech!" the Death Eaters praised, but Hermione didn't care, she wanted to put in her two cents, but she couldn't with them there. She didn't want them to think she was supporting his views, she wasn't, she simply wanted to acknowledge his superb oratory skills. Hermione felt left out for the next 20 minutes as the Dark Lord and his inner circle spoke. Narcissa and the other wives were huddled up in one of the sofas talking quietly amongst themselves while letting out the occasional laugh, and so Hermione found herself in an extremely awkward situation, having no one to talk to.

"Granger."

Hermione turned towards Voldemort who was looking at her.

"We have a floo conference with Dumbledore, why didn't you remind me?"

Hermione opened her mouth like a gaping fish, she had no recollection of that.

"Never mind," he said standing up, "waiting can't do him any bad."

Hermione stood up after him and followed him out towards the back of the ice palace where a door opened leading then down some stairs to another door, this one leading outside. Hermione hugged her arms to her body as the bitter cold hit her barely covered self, Voldemort seemed to notice her chattering for he handed her his coat which he had grabbed before leaving. Without complaining, Hermione threw the warm coat on and was glad to see that it went down to her ankles, effectively warming her whole body. Hugging herself even more, she walked up to where he was.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked as they began walking.

"I cast a warming charm on myself," he said simply.

They walked silently around the property for a few seconds.

"Dumbledore doesn't really want to talk to us, does he?" she asked slowly.

"Obviously," he replied. "The conversations were just becoming really stale."

The Muggleborn looked away from him and towards where they were heading: a dark wall of greenery on the east side of the property, a maze it would appear. Quietly, she walked alongside him into the maze; once inside, she noticed that it was actually lit up with vintage street lamp posts along the path. Hermione almost smiled at the irony of her situation, here she was about to be led into an isolated, dark maze by Lord Voldemort, and she was not the least bit worried. Instead, she felt a nagging curiosity to find out what was on his mind. Hermione followed him quietly as they made many twists and turns, he seemed to know this maze by heart.

"Do you come here often?"

"Not really," he responded.

"Well, you certainly know your way around," Hermione said looking up at him as they stepped out into what appeared to be the center of the maze where a small, cozy garden courtyard lay. There was a wooden bench facing a fountain and some rose bushes all around. It was quite peaceful, and pretty.

"The maze changes every day," he said sitting down in the bench, "there's no way to memorize it. You just have to think about where you want to go, and the maze will show you the path."

"What if you don't know where you want to go?" Hermione said turning in her seat to look at him.

He smirked."Then you better figure it out before you enter the maze or otherwise you will get lost, never to find the way out."

Hermione fell silent; she sensed an undercurrent in his explanation: a metaphor.

"There mustn't be a lot of people that know this maze then, because since they don't know about this beautiful courtyard in the middle, they're not going to think it's worth coming into such a frightening maze."

"This isn't the only thing that's in the maze," he said, looking at her for the first time, "there's also a small pond with koi, a Japanese garden, and even a lake with a Willow tree. But yes, almost no one knows the secret of this maze. It just won't let anybody in, sometimes I feel it's got a mind of its own." He added looking up and around at the high walls. "It's true that not a lot of people have tried to come in since the outside scares them away, but there have been a few that have tried. . . I guess they found the dark mystery of this maze alluring, but they didn't know the path, and they had the wrong objective, and so they failed."

"How many people have made it?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Apart from myself?" he paused as he looked up at the starry sky. "You. Of course, since I am the one that created this maze, I am the only one who can bring people in, but I haven't found anyone else I felt was deserving of that honor."

"So, is this the place you come to when you want to be away from it all and just think?" Hermione went on.

"Yes," he said while closing his eyes, he remained like this for a few seconds, and Hermione noted that when he looked so relaxed, the snake face was actually not frightening. _Or maybe it was just her growing accustomed to seeing it all the time_. Hermione gave a mental shrug and studied him, she didn't know if he was meditating or trying to sleep, but, in reality, neither one was acceptable.

"So," she said, "what happened with Bellatrix? You still haven't told me."

He opened his eyes and shook his head. "Nothing worth repeating."

"So it's over?"

"Yes, and I am never going back to that," he said, his voice gaining strength. "She doesn't know her place."

"She always seemed very respectful around you," Hermione said, "and you should see how she defends you during Order meetings!" she added as the memory resurfaced in her mind.

"She's very possessive," Voldemort said. "And I'm very possessive, she's also got quite a temperament, and so do I. . . ."

"I guess you two are just too similar then?" Hermione said.

"You think I'm crazy?" he said, turning to look at Hermione.

"I never said you were identical, just similar,' Hermione said quickly. "I know she's a psychopath, and you're a sociopath."

He nodded, a small smile on his lips. "Exactly. There's no balance."

"Oh well," Hermione said, "I'm sure you'll find the balance soon enough."

"Oh, I think I have," he said soberly while giving her a pointed gaze. Hermione physically and mentally recoiled.

"Okay, I think you've had too much alcohol, again," she said with a sheepish smile as she stood up.

"I'm completely sober, and I mean that in both definitions of the word," he said as he stood up as well. Once Hermione saw that he looked deadly serious, she took a step back and clutched his coat around herself.

"I'd better go," she said as she headed towards the path they had come from. Before she could reach it; however, the path sealed itself up magically and everything around her started spinning. Hermione stepped back insecurely, was the ground spinning or the walls of the maze?

"What's going on?" she yelled at him as she watched the green blur that the spinning maze walls encircling them had transformed into.

He shrugged, a smirk on his face as he came forward slowly. His hands suspiciously hidden behind his back. "The maze has a mind of its own, I told you. I guess it just doesn't want you to leave."

"Well, you better tell the maze to knock it off because I am leaving! For good!" she yelled, her voice panicked.

"Come on, Hermione, let's talk about it," he said extending his hand to her.

"We have nothing to discuss!" she said shrilly as she stepped away from him, only to have him walk towards her again. Hermione started backing up faster until she hit what felt like a wall, but when she turned around, she saw that it was an invisible barrier right in front of the spinning maze walls.

"You don't want to touch the walls right now," the Dark Lord commented, "it could kill you."

"You can't kill me!" she countered, "that would be a breach of the contract!"

"It never said anything about accidental death," he said quietly, he was right in front of her now. Hermione, panicked and frustrated, felt tears coming to her eyes. How could she have been so stupid as to think of him as anything other than an enemy?

"Fine, go on then, rape me. It's not like I expected anything better from you," she spat, her eyes furiously digging into his.

"I don't enjoy rape," he said simply, "and in your case, it would be unnecessary as there is already a mutual attraction."

"Maybe from your part, but not me!" she hissed.

"Don't lie to me, Hermione," he said taking her face and making her look up into his red eyes. "I don't even need to get inside your mind to know that you're lying," he whispered.

"I'm engaged," she hissed.

"You're attracted to me," he replied.

"It doesn't matter, just because I'm attracted to you doesn't mean I'm going to do anything about it," Hermione hissed.

"Well, I will," she heard him say, and before she knew it, his lips were upon hers. Hermione was too in shock to do anything; not to mention that he had his hand wrapped around the back of her head quite firmly. Oh but she had fantasized about this! Why sometimes at night she'd brought herself off thinking about Him, but only after she had convinced herself that there was no way her fantasy would ever become reality. _Everything had been a lie_, she thought vaguely as she gave in a little to his kiss, _it really is a good kiss,too. . ._once he felt her joining the kiss, his other arm went around her waist pulling her towards him until she was pressed against Him as they continued deepening the kiss. Hermione felt his hand come off her head and join his other arm around her waist. _Oh but what am I doing, I'm engaged! _Hermione brought her hands up to his chest and started pushing him away, but of course her strength was no match for his; however, as soon as he felt her disengage from the kiss, he let her go. Hermione stood there, her breathing strained as she looked up at Him with narrowed eyes.

"You shouldn't have done that," she said finally.

"You wanted it," he replied quietly.

Hermione shook her head faster,m and as she took a step back, she noticed the barrier was gone, and the maze walls had stopped spinning. Giving him one last glance, she turned and went through the arch and disappeared between the maze walls.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Small update coming up! I couldn't stand to keep you waiting any longer. Life has been getting in the way. However, next chapter i promise will be longer and have a **lemon**. Don't forget to review, last chappie you guys spoiled me with reviews, and I loved it so keep it up!

I would like to thank everyone who reviewed:armanifan101, ,Emmberlyne Riddle, Yew Wand, Sonia, Sailor2Moon,Ldeetz, Eli, N, sweet-tang-honney, sarahr85, ladymassacre, Inkfire, Serpent in red, Kimi 492, texfreelancer00, patie,juicycouturevalerie, embersiphonelilathia,Lk-Hgwarts-Headgirl, Takara410, Akira M,Jade253, Mrs. Volturi.

* * *

Even though nothing had really happened between the Dark Lord and Hermione, she couldn't help but feel that that day would be "the morning after". She even stayed in bed for an extra two hours as she thought about what had transpired between them the previous night. It had just been a kiss, nothing more, but Hermione couldn't discard it so easily for she knew that even though it had just been a kiss, it hadn't. It had been a door, a pathway of sorts, which would lead to outcomes and situations so complicated and unreal that Hermione had been trying to ignore them all along.

Hermione didn't know until what time she lay in bed clutching the covers to herself, it was grey outside and cold. Maybe she could just spend the whole day in bed . . . .

"Mistress! Mistress!"

Hermione woke up to Deepti's anxious voice. Hermione sat up and looked around, the room was darker than before she had closed her eyes. What time was it?

"Almost five, missus," Deepti said, stepping back so that Hermione could get out of bed. "The master wants you to come down for tea."

Hermione inwardly groaned. "High tea with his highness?" she said sarcastically while making her way towards her closet. "Tell him I'll be down in 10 minutes."

Hermione grabbed grey sweatpants and a chocolate sweater, she tied her hair back for she didn't want to deal with it and didn't bother to put on any make up. Not that she normally did, anyway. Last night she was looking pretty and sexy because of that stupid dress and her make up, and that's probably what got His blood boiling; so maybe if he saw how disgusting and unsophisticated she was, he would be turned off by her and leave her alone.

Once she arrived outside the doors to the small, intimate tea room, Hermione stopped and contemplated feigning sickness. She did not want to see Him, she would be crushed by the awkwardness of the situation, she was sure. Hermione touched the door handle only to rescind her action and twirl on the spot, hands pulling at her hair. _Jesus, what had I been thinking? Oh but I would have to face him soon enough; so I might as well get this over with. _Hermione took a deep breath, and before she could change her mind, she turned the knob and stepped in.

The Dark Lord sat at the small table next to the floor length windows, he was staring out at the dark grounds. Without looking at her, he commanded her to sit with a wave of his hand; Hermione complied robotically, and once she sat at the meticulously carved table and observed the fine tablecloth and silverware, wondered if this was his idea of a date.

"You wanted to see me?" she said eyeing the four tier silver tray filled with scones and finger sandwiches.

"Have you been sleeping all day?" he said turning to look at her and offering her a box filled with different types of teas.

"I was tired," she said shortly, oh the suspense was killing her. She picked out the Earl Grey tea and scooped out the loose tea into her personal teapot.

"So you didn't see the paper?" he went on.

Hermione stopped playing with her china cup and looked up. "No, why?"

He sighed and looked down to his right where Hermione noticed lay a folded newspaper. He handed it to her. Hermione took it from him and stared at the headline, apprehension leaving her mind and being replaced with a cold panic.

"**HERMIONE GRANGER, HARRY POTTER'S BEST FRIEND TURNED TRAITOR."**

Below that was a picture of her at the party last night, it showed Hermione standing amongst the inner circle while gazing at Voldemort who was in the middle of his speech. Hermione was even more horrified to see that she had a small smile on her face as she gazed at the Dark Lord. Oh Jesus, was she going to have trouble explaining that one. Suddenly, the newspaper was taken from her grasp.

"You can read it later, we have to discuss certain things concerning this."

"No!" Hermione said standing up and reaching over towards him for the newspaper, which he hastily made disappear. "I need to read that!" Hermione snapped, her eyes panicked, "I need to know what they're saying! Oh my god . . . oh my god." Hermione shakingly buried her hands in her hair.

"In a nutshell, they say that you're a no good whore who is cheating on her fiancé and has fallen in love with, and I quote –" the newspaper appeared in his hand. " 'A hideous wretch of a being'." He folded up the newspaper and stowed it on his lap. "You don't agree with them, do you Hermione, darling? You wouldn't join lips with someone you found utterly despicable, right?"

"Why are you acting like this?" Hermione snapped at his annoying smirk. "This is serious!"

"I know it's serious," he said, the smile coming off his face, "which is why you have to remain calm and not loose your head."

"You're just saying that because you're not the one with the problem!" Hermione snapped. Suddenly her face fell. "Oh, god . . . Ron must've been calling all day! What must he think?" She turned and ran towards the door.

"Hermione, I'm not done with you!"

Hermione ignored Him and kept running towards the open doors. As soon as she was less than a foot from them, they closed with a loud bang. Hermione tugged at the doorknobs in vain, frustrated she kicked out at the doors before whipping herself around.

"Let me out!"

"Get back in your seat."

"I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU! LET ME OUT!" Hermione bellowed, her anger finally getting the best of her. However, almost as soon as the last syllable had gotten out of her mouth, the anger had completely gone out of her system. Hermione didn't know if it was because of her cathartic outburst or due to being replaced by fear caused by Voldemort's current countenance. Almost as soon as she'd began her yell, she knew she'd gone too far. His eyes had gleamed and his fingers had wrapped themselves around the teacup handle as tight as a snake constricting its victim. Hermione didn't say anything, she knew she'd gone too far and at this moment she was so glad that he was under a vow to not hurt her.

"Are you done acting like a petulant child?" he said slowly, she could tell he was forcing his voice to remain even. _It must be a new sensation for him to be disrespected and not be able to do anything about it,_ Hermione mused as she lowered her head and meandered back to her seat.

"Indeed it is," he responded almost instantly, "however, I take solace on the fact that even though I can't hurt you, the same cannot be said for your parents."

"You wouldn't," hissed a tightlipped Hermione.

"Don't force my hand, Hermione." His deadly whisper killing the adrenaline rush Hermione was feeling.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"You can't just tell me you're sorry, you have to show me you're sorry," he said over his cup of tea.

"Can we please get back to the article?" Hermione said while cocking her head. "I'm not really in the mood for word games and veiled flirting right now . . . ."

"Flirting?" he sniffed and set down his cup while leaning forward. "We have already passed that benchmark."

"There is nothing going on between us," Hermione replied icily.

He unfolded the newspaper and brought it up next to his head. "Not according to this."

"I have to go to the Order," Hermione said, her face falling. "Oh, what must they think? Especially with me not answering!"

"Dumbledore came over this morning, and we decided to play along with what the article says," Voldemort stated.

"Dumbledore was here?" Hermione asked while raising her voice, "well, why didn't you come get me? And what do you mean by playing along?"

He shrugged. "The house elves said you were asleep, and Dumbledore was in a hurry. He figured I would just tell you that no one is going to do anything to disprove this article at the moment. It simply would not make sense to direct efforts to-"

"What do you mean?" Hermione interrupted loudly, "I'm not going to sit back and let the whole wizarding world think I've joined the dark side and are cheating on my fiancé with you!"

"There is no other choice, it is the least harmful of explanations for the photo because otherwise," he raised his voice when Hermione opened her mouth to interrupt him again, "we would have to reveal the Alliance and then all our efforts and plans to take down the Ministry would go down the drain."

"There has to be another way, I will not sacrifice my reputation in such a way," Hermione said stubbornly while sitting back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest.

"Hermione, they have photographic evidence of you in my court; you're even _smiling _at me, and it's not just any type of smile, it's a dreamy smile . . . a lustful smile," he added looking at the newspaper. Hermione chewed on her lip, her brow furrowed as she silently cursed her actions last night over and over again. "There is only one explanation for this image and it was given by The Prophet . . . look at yourself." He threw the paper over to her side. "Your feelings for me are written all over your face."

Hermione stared at the image for a few seconds, her hands grasping her cup of tea like a lifeboat. "What did Dumbledore think of it?" she asked finally.

"He was hard to read and brooding. So clearly, he had a lot on his mind. He might have an inkling about what's going on. I tried coming up with explanations why you could've been staring at me in such a way, but, well there really is no cover up I could employ . . . you were wearing your heart on your sleeve, I'm afraid."

"How am I going to explain this to Ron?" Hermione said meekly. Her chest was burning, and her vision was getting blurry.

"You could just tell him the truth," Voldemort said quietly, a little too silently and innocently for Hermione's liking.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" Hermione snapped.

He leaned back and brought his hands up in a sign of surrender, a smirk on his face. "It was just a suggestion, darling, just trying to do the right thing, here! But we can go behind his back if you want, I don't care."

Hermione glared at him and then shook her head as she stood up. "I've already told you there's nothing going on between us, okay? The last thing I would do is leave Ron for you." Hermione turned on her heel and swooped out of the room.

"If you're going to see your beloved, make sure you are back at a prudent time for we leave tomorrow at 8 am for Paris."

"Why?" Hermione asked with a frown, she was at the door.

"I don't like to raise my voice," he drawled while sipping from his teacup, his eyes facing the chair Hermione had occupied a moment before. With a sigh, Hermione walked back and sat down in the chair.

"As I mentioned last night, Dumbledore has ceded more control to me. The plan is to eventually attack the Ministry, run Scrimgeour and his cabinet out of office and take over. However, to do that, we need to weaken the Ministry and neither Dumbledore nor I have enough spare troops to launch repeated attacks against the Scrimgeour. So, since we can't weaken them directly, we might as well stop them from becoming stronger and bid our time that way. Scrimgeour is going around Europe asking for more troops, last week he met with the French minister and started negotiations to receive troops from them. So now we must go and make a better offer," Voldemort leaned over his steepled fingers resting on the table, an unsettling grin on his face, "one they won't be able to refuse.

"I'm not killing or torturing anyone," Hermione said flatly.

"And I would hope there would be no need for such barbarity, after all this is a _diplomatic _trip. It requires a much higher faculty than the physical acts of murder and torture, the threat of the latter two will always be there, but that's just it, it's only the _threat_." Voldemort smiled again and leaned back.

Hermione sniffed and a smirk came over her face. "You would've made an excellent lawyer, then or diplomat, if you like negotiating that much."

Voldemort's lips tugged up in a lopsided smirk."Indeed." He surveyed Hermione silently for a minute and then rapidly inhaled and raised his voice to a commanding tone once more. "Anyway, I've taken care of the flying and hotel arrangements. Now it's your job to look presentable. When you go today, bring back formal wear: skirts and suits and the like, think business. Also, don't forget accessories, a necklace or a brooch on a woman serves to bring an outfit together, and so far I haven't seen you wear either. Also, scarves and pashminas add a nice touch. Do not mention anything about the trip to anyone, Dumbledore and I have decided to keep it under wraps. So, now that we got that settled . . . ." He stood up and placed his hands one over the other on his front. "I shall see you later tonight, let the house elves know when you're in so they will notify me, I want to make sure you have _remotely_ fashionable looking clothes," He gave her a haughty smirk and Disapparated.

Hermione sighed as she stood up. "What do I have to do to get that man to stop making passes at my fashion sense? Sleep with him?" She sighed again and shook her head as the impending confrontation with her fiancé came to mind. _No, now was not the time to be having such thoughts_.

* * *

Hermione flooed to Order headquarters full of apprehension. As soon as she landed in the foyer, she heard low voices coming from the kitchen. Hermione sighed silently and walked towards the kitchen wishing she were anywhere else.

"Hey Ron, I am so sorry, you must've been calling all day, I overslept, and I woke up a couple of hours ago, and then Voldemort told me about the Prophet and so . . . I just had to come. I don't want you getting the wrong impression."

Ron remained silent, he was sitting at the kitchen table with his family around him. As soon as Hermione showed up at the entrance, all eyes had gone on her: they were suspicious and cold, and Hermione cringed at seeing Tonks there; she was sure the auror had badmouthed her since 6am judging by the haughty 'I told you so' smirk she was sporting.

"There is only one way to interpret this," Ron said throwing the newspaper cover to her.

"Ron, I was smiling because Amycus said something really mean and funny about Wormtail, it just looks wrong because it's a muggle picture. If it had been a wizarding picture, you would've seen me glance at Amycus and then Wormtail."

"That's kind of what Dumbledore said," Ron muttered. "That you might've been smiling at something else and because it was a nonmoving picture, it looked bad."

Hermione remained silent, but a weight lifted off herself. Dumbledore making excuses for her? Great!

"But look at her eyes, though," Tonks interjected, "they are all dreamy and far off while looking at You-Know-Who."

Hermione had to force her face to remain impassive and nonchalant. After all, she couldn't show defensiveness because they would take that as an admission of guilt. No, instead, she would take a page from the book of the master of deceit and backstabbing

"Tonks, you've been very adamant lately in getting Ron and I to fight. I must ask what your motives are? You wouldn't be trying to get us to separate so you could have Ron for yourself, now would you?"

"What?" Tonks replied sharply.

"Hermione, that is not true," Remus said placing a hand on his wife's arm to calm her. "We are very happily married."

"Well then why does she keep getting in between Ron and I? Why is she always putting wood into the fire? It's the only explanation, Remus!"

"How dare you!" Tonks called out."I would never want to separate you two, I just don't want Ron to be taken advantage of by you!"

"I'm not being taken advantage of," Ron said turning to look up at Tonks. "And Hermione is right, you have been getting in between us."

"What?"

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and watched the scene play out. She was trying hard to not smile at her successful deflection of the negative attention.

" – just this morning you were telling me to leave Hermione because she was obviously cheating on me, and you never considered any other explanations, you latched onto the worst explanation right away," Ron was telling Tonks who was red-faced with anger.

"You know what!" She stood up, "I could care less from now on. I was trying to help you, Ron, as a friend, but since this snake," she looked up at Hermione, "has made me the enemy and hoodwinked the lot of you, then fine! I wash my hands off this mess." With that she walked out followed by Remus.

"If you all don't mind, I would like to have a word with my fiancé alone," Hermione said, raising her voice so that all in the kitchen would hear her. She waited until all people had filed out of the kitchen and up towards the rooms, before uncrossing her arms and walking towards Ron. She placed her arms around his neck and rested her chin on his shoulder while kissing him on the cheek.

"Are we okay?" she whispered.

"I would really appreciate it if you could drop out," Ron said silently but pointedly.

Hermione remained quiet as she cast her eyes downward. "I'll talk to Dumbledore."

Ron looked up. "Really?"

She nodded and smiled tightly while staring at him. "Yeah, I don't want to overstrain our relationship."

He smiled as he stood up, Hermione copied his expression while straightening up as well.

"That's great, that's amazing," he said with a huge grin, "you have no idea how great that sounds, I am always so worried about you." He kissed her happily, Hermione smiled at their kiss; however, before it could get too lavish, she pulled away.

"I should go so I can talk to Dumbledore, and then go back to Voldemort." She smiled sheepishly and gave his hand a squeeze. "Are you staying here?"

"For dinner, you should stay," he said.

"I want to know if I can pull out, Ron, I want to get that out of the way."

He nodded. "Okay, sure." He gave her a peck on the lips, Hermione smiled at him and then Disapparated.

Once she got home, she stopped outside her bedroom while wringing her hands. She had lied, she didn't plan on pulling out of the mission. However, she felt horrible that she had to lie about it to Ron, he had looked so hopeful. Oh the remorse was eating at her! Hermione bit her lip and walked into her room as she absentmindedly pulled clothes off hangers and threw them onto her bed. She wasn't even thinking about the standards Voldemort had set for her, she was busy thinking about her actions.

Sure playing dirty had worked, she had gotten out of a sticky situation completely clean, but at what cost_? I'll never ever do something like that again_, Hermione thought to herself while grabbing a large tote and stuffing the clothes inside. _Never ever. _She would still have to go talk to Dumbledore, though, after all she had told Ron she would; so she would just have to be honest with Dumbledore and tell him the truth. She was sure he would play along with it since she was sure he wouldn't want her off the mission. Once she had packed up, she said the password that would allow her to Apparate at Hogwarts and felt herself squeezing through an uncomfortably tight tube.

"Professor?"

Dumbledore looked up from his study and smiled. "Ms. Granger, sit down. How are you?"

Hermione smiled as she sat down and nodded. "Good, good . . . well apart from the article in the Prophet . . . ."

"Have you told Ronald?" Dumbledore asked lightly, his hands set on his desk.

"Yes, I did," Hermione said quietly as she considered just how much to tell the headmaster. "I told him that at the moment when that picture was taken, I was amused by a comment that was made about Wormtail. The picture just put it in the wrong context."

Dumbledore surveyed her inquisitively like he had done so often when they were in school. Hermione squirmed under his scrutiny and instantly put up her Occlumency walls when she felt him prodding into her mind. Almost as soon as she had, he pulled out, and Hermione cursed herself for thinking she could pull one over the aged headmaster.

"Hermione, you don't need to lie to me," he said silently, but kindly.

Hermione nodded feeling ashamed of herself. "I just . . ." _Fuck this_. "He is such a good speechmaker, and I was standing there listening to him, and it was just so amazing that . . . I mean, you know how I am when it comes to academic qualities, professor, and His charisma and speech techniques were just so perfect and so… smart that I couldn't help it. I knew I couldn't tell Ron without him freaking out and taking it the wrong way." Hermione sighed and closed her eyes briefly before opening them back up and glancing at the headmaster who was looking thoughtful.

"Anyone who has heard Tom talk would agree with you, Hermione, I do not blame your reaction. It's good that you told that to Ron, were the others there as well?"

Hermione nodded.

"Good," Dumbledore said, "they wouldn't understand if you told them the truth. Did Tom tell you our stance on the article?"

"We won't do anything about it," Hermione said coldly as she was reminded of that unpleasant fact. "I really have to ask, though, if you would reconsider. I don't think I need to tell you how damaging this is for me."

"I understand, but if we were to counteract the article it would be like feeding more wood to the fire, that would draw attention to our activities and potentially expose the Alliance. If we simply lay low, it would most likely blow over in a few weeks."

"I highly doubt that," Hermione snapped, "this is major news, Harry Potter's best friend being Lord Voldemort's mistress? I will never be able to walk outside again."

"Once the Alliance is over, we can explain everything. Until then however, you should take Polyjuice potion whenever you go out."

Hermione angrily surveyed Dumbledore before directing her gaze downwards and hugging herself poutingly. "Of course it's an easy fix so long as it's not about you," she snapped in frustration.

"Hermione, you should've known that at an event as big this, there would be pictures taken, and whether these were allowed or not allowed, you should've still steered clear of them. You put yourself directly in the spotlight by going up on the podium with them and –"

"Well, I didn't know what else to do," Hermione snapped, "they all filed out after Voldemort, who never told me what was going to be happening, and what I should do."

"Well, Hermione, you should never expect Him to be looking after your wellbeing. You have to remember that no matter how charming and pleasant he might make himself to be, He is Lord Voldemort. He looks after his interests and his interests alone." Dumbledore lowered his voice. "He is not a friend, Hermione, and much less a lover," he lowered his voice as he said this. Hermione's face contorted.

"There is nothing going on between us! What did he tell you?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "He didn't need to tell me anything, the picture said it all. You don't need to explain," he said while raising his voice at seeing Hermione open her mouth, "I understand how you would be attracted to him. You two have, after all, a lot in common, and he is charming and good-looking, and with all the time you've been spending with Him, it's understandable that you would feel an attraction. However, I urge you to keep your attraction just that, an attraction. If he were to find out about it, he would not hesitate to use it for his benefit."

Hermione nodded. "I know." She looked down." I know."

"Well, now that we got that settled." He stood up from behind his desk, his back curved slightly. Hermione stood up along with him and straightened up. "You have everything for your trip?"

Hermione was surprised to hear the headmaster was in the know, but then again, she would've been surprised if he didn't.

"Yes," she patted the bag next to her feet. "I think I'm good."

Dumbledore nodded and patted her back while walking with her towards the fireplace. "Good, good," he muttered, "you still have the earrings I gave you?"

Hermione pushed her hair back from her ear and showed him the studs. "Yes, of course."

He nodded. "Good, good…report as soon as you get back, alright? And please, Ms. Granger, heed my warning and take care of yourself."

Hermione nodded solemnly. "I will." She then stepped into the floo.


	8. Chapter 8

So I know it wasn't the fastest update, but it was faster than last update, right? Enjoy and gimme lots of reviews!

Thanks to: Fa-al, angelicpixie, ilovenat1995, sailor2moon, Nerys, the-quiet-girl, serpent in red, sweet tang honey, embersiphonelilathia (how'd you come up with that?), armanifan101, Mel, inkfire, emmberlyneriddle,lkhgwartsheadgirl.

Mel: I did mean it as in Alecto was suspicious of Hermione. I mean, she doesn't know whether she should do as Hermione says, after all she is no Death Eater and Alecto would be suspicious as to Hermione's motives since she is not explaining anything and simply demanding to "see her arm".

* * *

"So what happened?"

Hermione looked up at the Dark Lord who was leaning against the doorframe eyeing her silently. She glanced back down at her folded clothes and open suitcase. "It worked itself out okay."

"Really?" he said, amazement dripping off his voice as he stepped into the room and sat down on her bed. "Well, then you must tell me all about it, because I couldn't think of a way to get off with no repercussions, well, a morally conscious way, that is," he added. Hermione didn't need to look up to see the smirk on his face, she could hear it in his tone.

"I told him that Alecto said something funny about Wormtail, and that at that moment I was laughing at that, but that in the picture, it looked like I was smiling at someone else instead," Hermione said lightly and with a tone of finality. She really didn't want to give him the details as to what she really had done.

"And they believed you just like that."

Hermione cursed his intelligence. Sometimes she really _really_ wished he were as dimwitted as his minions. For now, all she could do was keep her eyes away from his, and on her open suitcase.

"Well, it took a bit of cajoling on my part, but it worked out in the end. I did tell Ron that I was going to pull out though, I never meant it," she added quickly before he could say anything, "I just said it to get him to lay off the matter, but I forgot to tell Dumbledore so he could play along!" she straightened up and ran her hands through her hair. "I can't believe it . . . ."

"Well, we can have a floo conference in a few minutes," Voldemort said, "you can tell Dumbledore to tell Weasley that you tried to get off, but he wouldn't let you. That way, Weasley will stop nagging you about it; you'll be the victim, and Dumbledore will be the foe."

"That's mean, though," Hermione said meekly, "maybe Dumbledore will have another idea . . . ."

"Hermione," Voldemort said solemnly while leaning forward, "it's the only way to make sure you get off clean. It doesn't matter how affected Dumbledore is."

"I'll do it if it's the absolute only way," Hermione said, her eyes firmly on his to show that she would not be swayed. He glared at her for a few seconds before looking away and sighing.

"Well, I have to say that is quite nice of you. After all, Dumbledore could give a rat's ass about _your_ reputation seeing as how he is not making any effort to clean your name from involvement with me. Yet, you want to help him maintain _his_ integrity." He smiled coldly and cocked his head. "How touching."

Hermione froze in her actions to place a folded dress into the bag. Dumbledore's words of warning churned in her head, He was baiting her, and she knew it. He was predisposing her against Dumbledore, making her move away from the headmaster. "Well," she said finally, "we all have to make sacrifices." She set her dress in the suitcase and gave him a cold, hard glare to let Him know, she was up to his game. He glanced impassively at her, not letting her know whether he had received her silent response or not. However, Hermione knew by the arrogant lifting of an eyebrow, that he had received her silent message and disliked it.

"What is that?" he drawled while staring at her open suitcase.

"A suitcase?"

He gave her a forced smile. "I meant the gray thing at the corner."

"A dress?" Hermione unfolded it and showed it to him.

"For what? School? Are you also going to wear your hair in pigtails?" He smirked and sniffed disapprovingly.

Hermione, feeling enraged at his retaliation tactics, scrunched the dress up into a ball. Now she understood that since he couldn't pick on her for being stupid, gullible, ugly or overweight, he had latched onto her one weakness: her insecurity with fashion, and every time she got the best of him, he would prod her where he knew it would hurt. "You are so low," she muttered, the folded up dress in her hands warm from her tight grip on it. "Your tactics are so . . . pitiful."

He smiled and stood up while coming towards her. Hermione held her ground.

"Something is only pitiful when it is unsuccessful," he said, "and that of course cannot be said for what you call my 'tactics', in reality, they are not tactics, it is my nature."

"Well, then, that's a very sad nature," Hermione hissed, he was standing right in front of her now, looking down at her with his red eyes. Hermione was undeterred; she would not crumble before Him.

"That is a very ignorant thing to say, Hermione," he muttered, "for it is a very subjective idea. For you and other religiously influenced folk who are blinded by morality and seek to live a small and humble life, my nature would be bad. But for myself, and people with any noticeable amount of ambition, my nature is a gift. So I suggest you keep your bureaucratic comments to yourself and stop trying to judge me." He grabbed her chin and Hermione was surprised when he gave her a cold, chaste kiss. Hermione didn't push him away or fight him; mainly because it was so cold and condescending a kiss, that it was more a formality than a romantic gesture. "You have a lot to learn," he said as he dropped his hand from her chin and turned around. "You have learned some, your orchestration of the fight between Tonks and Weasley has shown me that –" Hermione swallowed "-but you still have a lot to learn."

He stopped at the door, hand on the handle. "Take the pant suit and the skirt suit. It's the only two respectable outfits you have. Leave the loafers, I don't know what you would wear those clunkers with . . . tomorrow we will buy you some clothes."

"I don't have money to be throwing around," Hermione said coldly.

"I never asked you if you did," he hissed. "I am organizing the floo conference in 10 minutes, make sure you're in my office by then. Dumbledore may wait for you people, but I wait for no one." He slammed the door.

Hermione threw her balled up gray dress at the door wishing He were still in front of it and plopped down on the bed as frustrated tears leaked out of her eyes.

* * *

"Tom, Hermione," Dumbledore's head greeted cordially.

Hermione smiled at him sheepishly; she turned to look at the Dark Lord. Should she go first? Voldemort was standing at the back of the room next to the floor-length windows watching Dumbledore coolly. He raised both eyebrows at Hermione. "I've got no business with him."

Hermione turned back to face the headmaster.

"When I left your office, I realized that I hadn't told you the thing I went to your office to tell you in the first place. After I told Ron the unfortunate and misleading situation with the picture, I agreed, at his insistence, to ask you to allow me to pull out of the mission. I never meant it, but I felt that if I didn't agree with Ron, a fight would've ensued and possibly harmed my engagement."

Hermione fell quiet, waiting to hear Dumbledore's suggestion at a resolution. There was no way in hell she was going to suggest, at first chance, what Voldemort had resolved.

The headmaster remained silent for a few seconds. "Well, that's an easy fix," he said lightly, "write him a letter tonight and tell him that I didn't feel it would be smart for you to pull out. I will go to Ronald tomorrow and speak with him." He smiled reassuringly. "You have nothing to worry about."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Are you sure?

Dumbledore smiled in a warm and grandfatherly way. "Miss Granger, I am sure I can handle one of my students." Hermione nodded and stood up, she felt like crying. Dumbledore's warmth and goodness, a stark contract to the cold and sarcastic demeanor of the dark wizard in the back, eyeing her with a haughty 'I told you so' expression. The same wizard she'd been losing sleep over, the same wizard who should have never come into her life. Dumbledore was so kind, so forgiving to her; yet she didn't deserve any of it. No, not at all, because she was sure that if the time ever came to do with Voldemort what Dumbledore did with Grindelwald, Hermione would not be so strong. Hermione was glad to see Voldemort taking over Hermione's conversation as he and the headmaster went over last minute details for France.

Hermione prepared her drink quietly, praying that neither man would take notice of her watering eyes. She didn't know why, but lately she had been very prone to crying. Cursing herself one last time, Hermione did a quick wandless against her eyes, making them dry up instantly. With a reserved smile, she went back towards the mantle where Voldemort stood gripping the back of the sofa, Hermione had previously sat in.

"Well, we should be turning in," the Dark Lord told Dumbledore curtly while glancing at Hermione, "we have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Yes, yes," Dumbledore said glancing at Hermione who clasped her drink next to the Dark Lord.

"Good night, professor," she said, "I'll tell Ron tonight. Thank you so much."

"Take care of yourself, Miss. Granger," was all Dumbledore responded, his eyes burning with intensity. He then looked at Voldemort and gave him a curt nod. "Thomas."

"For fuck's sake, Dumbledore, we'll be back in two days; so keep your teary goodbyes for another occasion." A swoosh of fire, left the Dark Lord's wand and went straight towards the headmaster's face which disappeared before the flames could hit him. Voldemort whirled around and stalked back to his desk followed by an amused Hermione.

"Thomas,Thomas!" he repeated in a mocking tone which made Hermione smile.

"That is your name."

"Yes, but did you hear the way he said it? All condescending, as if he thought of himself as being better than me!" He sat down behind his desk and summoned the drink from Hermione's hand before taking a sip. "I hate it when he calls me that," he added, Hermione smiled even more and crossed her arms over her chest as she stood before his desk.

"Well, maybe if you stopped showing him how much it annoys you, he would stop calling you that," she offered. "The only reason why he keeps calling you 'Tom' and 'Thomas' is because he knows it gets to you."

"It shouldn't even bother me," he said leaning back," I mean, it's so childish of him to resort to my name as a taunt."

_Just like you resorting to my fashion sense_. Hermione made sure to look down as this thought crossed her mind. "Well . . . ."

"Why were you crying?"

Hermione's eyes snapped back on Him. "What?"

"When you ran off to the bar, your eyes were moist," he went on.

"Oh, well," she looked down while shaking her head. "It's that time of the month for me, and I am a little more emotional as a result." She shrugged, He narrowed his eyes; her heart sank.

"Why were you crying?"

Hermione felt her anger hitting the boiling point, why did she have to explain herself to Him? Who was he to be demanding to know everything that crossed through her head?

"Because of nothing," she replied brusquely and turned on her heel. She didn't get far; however, for she felt him grab her elbow and whirl her around.

"I am getting tired of your insolent behavior," he hissed through clenched teeth. Hermione glared right back at Him, her powerful stare matching his own. "Do you know what I would do to you if it weren't for the vow I am under?" he went on, this time his voice more casual and in a perverse way, comforting. Hermione tried to wrench her arm out of his grip by pulling and twisting her body like a mouse in the coils of a boa. However, her efforts were brought to an end by his free arm going around her waist and locking her against him.

"Are you done now?" he hissed, sounding slightly out of breath from Hermione's struggle. The brunette gave him one last strong shove before finally admitting defeat and resting her hands on his chest, her breathing harsh and ragged. Her head lolled onto his chest along with her fists, and she closed her eyes as she regained her breath. His other hand slowly let go of her arm and wound itself around her waist along with his other arm. Hermione calmed down after a few minutes of being in his embrace, and she actually ventured to place her arms around his neck.

"You smell nice," she muttered against his crisp white shirt as she ran her finger down the fabric on his chest. She heard him turning to look down at her; she felt His breath on her head followed by his cold digits wrapping themselves around her chin. Hermione allowed him to raise her head until she was looking up at him; she recoiled briefly when she saw him moving down towards her waiting lips, but in the end, her desire won out. His hand went up into her hair and gripped the strands close to her scalp, before Hermione could complain at his harsh treatment; he slammed her against his desk. Hermione let out a small cry into his mouth while her hands shot out to prevent herself from falling over onto the desk as He had intended. Voldemort put his hands around her waist and tried to push her down onto the desk once more; however, Hermione resisted. "Tom . . . ." She didn't want to have sex with him; however, he seemed to have only that in mind by the way in which his hands had ridden up her dress and were now attempting to pull down her underwear. "Tom, no . . . ."

"Come on . . . " he muttered moving away from her lips and onto her neck. Hermione readily gave him access, her neck was one of her most sensitive parts. She moaned when he started sucking and biting the thin skin, and she pulled his head closer to the crook of her neck.

"Ohhh," she let out, eyes closed and arms wrapped around his neck. She could feel herself start getting wet, and in the back of her mind, she told herself she should probably stop him before it progressed any further, but with each stroke of his tongue and lips, her resistance withered.

Just when she was about to let him start to undress her, there was a knock on the door. Hermione opened her eyes and was brought back to the reality of the situation she was in.

"There's someone at the door," she said.

"They'll go away," he muttered against her neck, his hand holding her bottom possessively.

"I – I don't –"Hermione's complaint was drowned out by him kissing her deeply. Hermione moaned, her arousal renewed by their passionate kiss. Just then however, there was another knock, which was this time followed by a meek call.

"My lord?"

The Dark Lord pulled back from the kiss and stalked towards the door in a fury. Hermione felt a tad disappointed that their moment had been interrupted, but quickly scolded herself for having thought that. Instead, she crossed the room horizontally until she reached the fireplace, and it was at this moment she heard Voldemort opening the door.

"What?" he said brusquely. Hermione felt awfully sorry for Pettigrew. "Did you capture Potter? Is the Order attacking? Did the Ministry fall? What is so important that you disturb me at this hour?"

Hermione knew she should go back to her room; after all she didn't want to risk Wormtail seeing her and getting the wrong idea. What with the messy hair and swollen lips . . . but she couldn't, she just had to see how this ended. Even though she had a good idea of what that ending would look like.

"I am sorry, my lord, I did not mean to disturb, but we - we found a spy!"

Hermione stopped in her tracks.

"Spy from where?" Voldemort demanded.

"A reporter," Wormtail went on, "from the Daily Prophet."

"Where are they?"

"In the dungeons."

"I'll be there in 10 minutes," the Dark Lord snapped and closed the door loudly before coming towards where Hermione was standing in front of the fireplace.

"Do you think they were one of the reporters at the party?" Hermione whispered looking up at Him.

"It's possible," he replied in a tense tone, his penetrating red eyes scrutinizing her soft brown ones. She looked away after a few seconds and stepped back towards the mantle where she pretended to be interested by one of the many trinkets on it.

"I thought you would torture Wormtail," Hermione said suddenly while turning towards him, "for interrupting us."

"So did I, but unfortunately he had a legitimate excuse for it," Voldemort said angrily, "I can't torture them arbitrarily because then they'll think me crazy and turn on me." He sighed and came up to her. "No matter . . . you can be sure I will take out all my riled up emotions on the reporter." He placed his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. Hermione let him and turned her head towards him before their lips meet once more. It was a brief kiss, passionate, but brief as Hermione pulled back before it could heat up.

"You should go down," she said, "and I have to finish packing for tomorrow."

"It can wait," he muttered bringing her towards him again. However, Hermione resisted and that caused him to exhale loudly in frustration and glare down at her. "I don't get it. You were ready to go before."

"No," Hermione said, "I hadn't even packed my shoes or -"

"That's not what I am referring to," he snapped.

Hermione bit her lip and looked down. "I just think it might be going too fast, and I am not even sure if this is something worth doing."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I'm engaged," Hermione said widening her eyes and opening her palms, "and I don't know if it's worth jeopardizing my engagement by having an affair."

"Hermione, if your engagement meant anything at all to you, you wouldn't even be considering having an affair." He crossed his arms and stepped away from her.

"I care about my engagement!" Hermione snapped, "I just . . ." she struggled for words, "need a break. I - lots of people do it!" she finally said, "when you have a long engagement like I, things get stale, and so they have an affair, and once it's over, it helps them appreciate the person they're engaged to even more."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," he said with narrowed eyes. "If things 'go stale', as you said, from having a long engagement, then what makes you think things won't 'go stale' when you're married?"

"Because you're. . . married. It's different," Hermione said uneasily. She didn't like the direction they were moving in.

"Marriage is a cold legality, it's a contract, pure and simple. It has nothing to do with your relationship, of course you can make yourself believe that once you get married you'll be forever in love, but that's not going to happen. If your relationship is getting stale when you're engaged, then getting married is not going to change that." He shrugged. "Although, and this is from a purely legal and economic perspective, it would make sense to get married even if your relationship is on the rocks because then you can file for irreconsilable differences, get asked no questions and have your divorce papers in no time which will make your husband your personal cash cow for the next few years in the form of alimony." He smirked. "However, in your case I wouldn't recommend this strategy because of . . . ah, certain financial disparities." He smiled. "In other words, _you_ would become darling Ronald's cash cow."

Hermione stared at him dumbfounded, her arms crossed. "How do you know all this?" she finally let out.

"I read," he said quickly.

"About divorce law?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Of course," he replied simply while motioning towards her, "and see? It came in handy because now you know what will happen to you after you get a divorce. So now what you must do, apart from resolving your emotional issues, is evaluate whether a marriage arrangement would be beneficial to you in the long run."

"That's not what marriage is about," Hermione said stubbornly, "it's about love and commitment. You can't go into a marriage with such selfish thoughts."

"So if you're not married, you don't love each other?"

Hermione frowned. "What? No . . ."

"Well, since you're saying that marriage is about love and commitment, then clearly people that don't choose to be married don't love each other as much as those that do," he said solemnly.

"I -I'm not . . . wha -? I never said that!" Hermione exclaimed frustrated.

"No, but you implied it with your statement," he said with a smirk, "so is that your stance? Do you believe that in order for people to be truly in love they have to sign a contract?"

"God damn it! Stop using the Socratic method on me!" Hermione snapped.

"Why?"

"Because it just - !" Hermione motioned with her hands while searching for words.

"Makes you feel stupid?" he said.

"Of course not!" Hermione replied, more out of reflex than rationale.

He eyed her quietly and then started coming towards her, Hermione briefly considered stepping away from him, but last minute decided against it. He stopped next to her and brought his hand up to her chin before allowing his fingers to graze her soft cheek. "You're not stupid, Hermione, you're just naive."

His hand fell back against his robed body as he turned and went towards the door. Hermione stood there and glanced at his back as he left, her jaw moving nonstop as she chewed on her bottom lip feeling confused.

* * *

"I didn't know wizards used planes." Hermione was looking out the window at the clouds below them as she said this. She turned her attention back towards him, her engagement ring clinking against the glass of wine in her hands.

"Brooms aren't the most comfortable method of travel; I am sure you can attest to that, and international Apparition is tedious, uncomfortable and slow as you have to go through security check points. Magical planes are the most enjoyable choice," he said lightly.

Hermione nodded and looked around the jet once more. It was small and meticulously clean, with luxurious polished wood surfaces and four large, beige leather armchairs as plane seats, two of which Hermione and Voldemort sat in.

"Are there public planes? Like airlines that anyone can buy a ticket on?" Hermione asked, "because that's how it is with muggles. There's private jets like this, but then there's hundreds of airlines for the public."

"Well there's London Air," he said, "and there's another British one. I don't remember its name though. Other countries have their own airlines,too."

Hermione smirked. "I guess as Dark Lord you can't exactly buy a ticket on a public plane, huh?"

"As if I would ever want to," he replied with a haughty sniff and a sip from his martini glass.

Hermione laughed silently, she was surprised to see him return her smile. She shook her head and looked back out the window. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him rise from his seat and come over towards the seat next to her. Hermione turned to look at him; she noticed that there were no longer two seats next to each other but one long couch on which they were both sitting on.

"What are you doing?" she said quietly.

"What do you think?" he replied bringing his hand on her cheek and his lips over hers. Hermione pushed him away gently.

"Tom . . . no, the pilot could see . . . ."

"How? He's in the cockpit, driving," he muttered bringing his head down over her once more. Hermione closed her eyes and melted into the kiss_, hmmm… this was certainly the way to travel_. Hermione still hadn't decided anything about her relationship with Him or Ron. Truth be told, she didn't even want to think about the fact that she was cheating on her fiancé, albeit at a shallow level. They had after all, only kissed thus far.

Hermione was now laying on the leather couch with Him over her, they were kissing feverishly, their teeth clinking like swords engaged in battle. His hand had unbuttoned her dress shirt and wedged itself between her bra and her breast which he was currently fondling. Hermione moaned into his mouth as her own hands went for his pants which she unbuttoned and unzipped; thus, releasing his growing erection. This time, it was his turn to moan as her hand started squeezing and pumping his manhood.

"My lord, we will be landing in twenty minutes," the pilot said all of a sudden over the speakerphone. Hermione seized up in shock.

"What? But we just took off half hour ago . . ."

"Magical planes are faster," he muttered darkly, his breathing as out of control as Hermione's.

"Oh my god, I have to clean up then," she said suddenly while sliding herself from under him and standing up. She buttoned up her blouse and rearranged her bra quickly while running her hand through her hair on her way to the bathroom in the back of the plane. She could hear Him following her; however, she paid him no acknowledgement. For once, she was more preoccupied with her appearance than anything else going around her. She opened the bathroom door and went in followed by him. It was a large bathroom, much like a guest bathroom in a home. Hermione silently moaned at her appearance in the mirror, her hair, which had previously been in a bun, was frizzed and half loose; her blouse had a missing button at the top and her skirt was severely wrinkled.

"If you knew we would arrive so soon, what possessed you to do that?" Hermione snarled as she let her long blonde hair down and stared at her polyjuiced face. To protect her identity and the Alliance, she had agreed to take Polyjuice potion constantly for the whole weekend. In response, he grabbed her roughly around the waist and turned her around before lifting her in his arms and setting her on the marble counter. Hermione whacked him in the chest. "What are you doing?" she squealed, "We have to clean up, we can't have them seeing us like this, they'll think we jest!"

"No, but they will if they see me with this." He pressed his erection against her inner thigh. Before she could say anything, he was kissing her again; it was an urgent kiss, full of frenzy and anticipation from wanting to get the deed done. Hermione gasped when the plane dropped slightly, and she felt her stomach flip. "I think we're starting to land," she muttered in between kisses. As soon as she said this, his hands pulled off her underwear and hiked up her skirt to her waist. Hermione allowed him and actually spread her legs for him as she undid his pants and brought out his erection. The Dark Lord grabbed onto her hips and pulled her closer to the edge of the counter where he united their bodies with one clean thrust. Hermione tightened herself at the welcome intrusion and gasped loudly. "Ohh Tom!"

The next minute went by in a frenzy of thrusts and moans as they both worked desperately to reach their peak before the plane landed. Suddenly, the jet jerked as it hit turbulence causing Tom to lose his footing and fall over Hermione who landed on her back on the cold marble counter. This however, only served to intensify their movements; Hermione, now on her back, moaned and writhed with each of his thrusts.

"8 minutes to landing," the pilot's voice said over the intercom in the bathroom.

"Ahh!" Hermione called out as he sped up his thrusts. "Ohh! Harder, Tom! Yes, oh."

Hermione cried out as the most intense orgasm she had ever had came over her; shortly after, she felt him coming as well, and they both rode out their orgasms with equal loudness. He pulled out as soon as he was spent, and Hermione opened her eyes to a slightly hazy world. She got off the counter and onto the floor, her breathing as sped up as his. "Oh my god, that was amazing," she commented.

He smiled. "Well, now you know what the Mile High Club is all about." Hermione smiled and sniffed in laughter before bringing his head down for a kiss, oh how she wished the plane would get lost or go on a detour . . . just so they could get it on again. Before it could get too heated, He broke off the kiss.

"Don't worry, we have all of tonight, and the night after, not to mention the flight back . . ." Hermione nodded eagerly and stepped away from him and towards the mirror as they fixed themselves up in silent understanding.

* * *

"Monsieur Thomas!"

Hermione looked up from the stairs they were going down. Voldemort was in front of her; he was almost on the ground where a man in a long black overcoat very much like that of the Dark Lord's waited for Him with a smile on his face. Hermione was shocked at the man's informal ways around the Lord, but managed to keep her face blank.

"Guillaume," Voldemort greeted, extending his hand to the man; a cold smile on his face. The Frenchman grabbed his hand and jerked it towards him making Voldemort trip into his embrace. Hermione had to bite herself from laughing at the tenseness Voldemort was displaying while Guillaume hugged and patted him on the back.

"Oh you British are colder than the antarctic!" Guillaume exclaimed, stepping away from the Dark Lord who smoothed out his coat and fixed his tie. His handsome face reserved and prim.

"Oh . . ." he eyed Hermione before turning his blue eyes on Tom's brown ones. "_Ta Copine?"_

"My assistant, Jane Halloway," Vodemort said motioning towards Hermione and disregarding Guillaume's question. Hermione smiled and extended her hand which Guillaume took and kissed. Hermione smiled nervously and looked up at Tom who rolled his eyes.

"A pleasure," Guillaume said. "Ma cherie, my name is Guillaume Gouthieau du Poitier."

"Nice to meet you, too," Hermione replied sweetly.

"Are you done romancing my secretary, Guillaume?" Voldemort said icily. Hermione was reminded of his presence and quickly looked up at his glaring eyes directed at her.

"Why? are you getting jealous?" Guillaume said turning to look back at the Dark Lord who huffed and granted them an eyeroll before turning to the two men dressed in suits and navy coats.

"The suitcases are in the plane. Take them to the Grand Marnier. There's a reservation under Tom Riddle."

With a nod of the head, both men went up the stairs to the inside of the plane.

"What do you mean?" Guillaume said going up to Voldemort. "You can't go to a hotel! Stay with me."

"You know I don't like to be a bother, Guillaume," Voldemort said politely, "besides you know I like my privacy."

"But this is insulting!" Guillaume complained as his two helpers came out of the plane holding one bag each.

"Of course not, Guillaume, this is just my preference. You know that if you were to come to England you would be more than welcome to stay with me, if you so chose to."

"Ah, you and your sweet words!" Guillaume exclaimed. "Alright then, let's head to my house, I don't want to keep you two in the cold any longer." Hermione smiled gratefully at him, she was starting to shake slightly.

"Jane," Voldemort called out waving her towards him. Hermione walked over into his outstretched arm which went around her waist. Hermione tried to not snuggle into his warm body too obviously, but she was glad to feel his warm arm across her back and over her waist. "The study at Bellechampe?"

Guillaume nodded and Disapparated. Hermione closed her eyes as his arm tightened around her, and they too were Disapparating. Almost instantly, Hermione felt solid ground under her heels and she opened her eyes to a lavishly decorated study very much like Voldemort's only this one was decorated in Gryffindor colors.

"Would you like a drink?" Guillaume called out as he sat down in a silk upholstered armchair and motioned for Voldemort and Hermione to do the same in a sofa facing him.

"Chardonnay," Voldemort said as he took off his coat and helped Hermione do the same.

"Just water," Hermione whispered as Guillaume's blue eyes came onto her. She smiled and looked away, Guillaume's eyes reminded her of Dumbledore's, and it was making her slightly uncomfortable; especially since the memory of her mile high activities resurfaced. Guillaume laughed silently at her as he called for a house elf to whom he gave the drink orders in curt French. He then turned to Voldemort with a sly smile.

"_Elle est mignonne. Tu es sur qu'elle n'est pas ta copine?"_

Voldemort clucked his tongue and shook his head in response. Hermione stared at them looking lost; she felt her face heating up. What were they talking about? They were certainly talking about her. . . .

"Guillaume, keep in mind that Ms. Halloway does not speak French," Tom said throwing her a glance, "so you can imagine how uncomfortable she might be feeling right now."

"No, it's okay," Hermione said, attempting to sound like she meant it, "it's obvious you two know each other very well; I don't want to interrupt your conversation."

Guillaume stared at her absentmindedly. "Yes . . .it's been a while, huh, Tom?" He turned towards Voldemort. "How many years we've known each other . . . 25? 30?"

"Stop it, you're making me feel old," Voldemort said.

"Maybe if we were muggle, but as it is we are in the prime of our life!" Guillaume exclaimed leaning back; he was a portly man with a moustache.

"Where's Veronique?" the Dark Lord asked conversationally.

"Her and her friends organized a girl's night benefit dinner for tonight; so she took off with Louise to do all the final planning and left me by my lonesome self. Even Christian is out, he has a new girlfriend he's trying to woo." He smiled. "What about you, Tom? Are you still by your lonesome self?"

"Couldn't hope for better company," Voldemort replied smoothly.

"Hmm . . . always the player, huh? Not ready to give up your freedom, yet?" Guillaume nodded looking satisfied. "Sometimes, I too, wish I could go back to those times with no wife and kids, no responsibilities. . . remember all the parties we would attend?" he said while grinning at the Dark Lord. "Oh how drunk we would get! Remember when we would show up to class hung over at least twice a week and then not remember who we'd slept with the night before even if they revealed themselves to us? Like those girls in our torts and –"

"Guillaume, we have to keep in mind that there is a lady present," the Dark Lord said in clipped tones. Hermione didn't know what to say as they both glanced at her; for a moment she wished she was back on the plane with Voldemort.

"Do you know how Tom and I met?" Guillaume asked Hermione lightly. The brunette-turned-blonde shook her head as she saw Voldemort tense up out of the corner of her eye.

"School," Voldemort snapped before Guillaume could say anything. "But that is irrelevant to the matter at hand, Guillaume we have to discuss a strategy –"

Guillaume raised his hands next to his head in a sign of surprise. "Come on, Thomas! Let us socialize a little. I haven't seen you in years! What kind of a friend are you?" He turned to look back at Hermione. "Tom and I went to Oxvard together."

All uneasiness Hermione had been feeling left when she heard this and was replaced with disbelief. She turned towards Voldemort. "You're a lawyer?"

"No, I never practiced," the Dark Lord replied silkily. His eyes dark and biting as they always got when the hermetic lid on his past was removed.

"Oh, don't tell me you haven't told anyone!" Guillaume exclaimed, eyes wide, "if I'd graduated with half the distinctions you came away with, I'd be boasting about it to everyone around me!" He looked back at Hermione and leaned forward conspiratorially. "This one," he pointed at Voldemort who pressed his lips together. "Graduated Summa Cum Laude, got departmental honors, and was head of the law review by his second year."

Hermione couldn't hide her surprise and awe. "Really?" She turned to look at Voldemort who was staring intently at his glass, his long finger tracing the rim. Suddenly, his cold façade broke with a smirk as he looked up at Guillaume.

"Remember when they kicked me out of law review?"

"Totally uncalled for and unfair," Guillaume said solemnly, "your article was the first piece of writing in that journal to make a good point, scandalous yes, but true."

Voldemort turned towards Hermione. "I wrote an article on a case about a muggle who was linked with a group that knew about us and was bent on destroying wizarding society back in the 40s."

"John Cassings?" Hermione said as his story rung a bell in her vast mental library of accumulated knowledge.

"Ah!" Guillaume said appreciatively, "yes, very smart girl."

"As you know, he was caught during a failed attack, and at his civilian trial, he pleaded insanity which led him to get off the hook and be confined in a muggle mental institution for 16 months." Voldemort sniffed and shook his head. "I mean, talk about a slap on the wrist! If his attack had succeeded he would've killed hundreds of wizards; yet we let him off with the promise he go see a shrink! Not to mention he should've been given a military trial for formalities sake, but been killed the first chance they got."

"He never tried to attack again though," Hermione said, "after he got out of the asylum."

"Yes, but because he was killed a few months after getting out," Guillaume said darkly.

"I thought it was an accident," Hermione said, her brow furrowed.

"It was made to look like an accident, but it was murder," Voldemort said, "but anyway, back to the point, in the article I said exactly how I felt about the court's decision and how Cassings should've been dealt with. I called out all the key people that where responsible for this slap in the face and spelled out their stupidity." Voldemort paused for a few seconds. "Of course, by that moment, I was writing more from my heated emotions than my rationale, and even though it was right for me to have singled out all those responsible, it was not the most beneficial thing to do for my person as I found out soon enough when I was stripped of my title as head of the law review."

"Oh . . .I'm sorry," Hermione said, a frown on her face. He waved her apology away.

"There's no need, I got back at them in due time." He smiled and took a sip from his drink. "An eye for an eye . . . or rather, every single organ for an eye." He chuckled.

Hermione pursed her lips and looked down.

"So, my liege, I think it would interest you to know that I have invited the Minister to dine tomorrow night."

"Good, good," the Dark Lord said while reaching down to his briefcase and pulling out a wooden box. "Do you think these will please?"

The box slid open and some cigars came into view. Guillaume looked over, and his eyes widened. He looked back up at Tom.

"Are those Behikes?"

"I would hope, after all, they did cost me an arm and a leg," Voldemort replied smoothly as he closed the box again. Guillaume reached out for it, and Hermione had to fight back a smile from coming onto her face. Guillaume was looking at the wooden box in Voldemort's hand as if it were his firstborn child. "Well, I have to say, if Gagnon has the same reaction as you at the sight of these, there won't be a whole lot of convincing going on." Voldemort stuffed the box back into his briefcase.

"Let's smoke one!" Guillaume said standing up and going towards the briefcase which Voldemort picked up and hugged to his chest.

"NO."

"Oh come on, you can't make me wait until tomorrow night! I will die, I won't be able to sleep . . . ."

Hermione snorted in laughter.

"Touch the briefcase, and I will curse your hand off," the Dark Lord said while glaring up at the Frenchman who was now standing over him. Guillaume looked briefly over to Hermione before addressing the Dark Lord in French. After a rapid flurry of foreign words, Voldemort seemed to have had enough.

"Good bye," he said loudly while standing up. Guillaume took a few steps back, but then went back to accosting him in rapid French.

"Jane," Voldemort called out over Guillaume to Hermione who stood up and went in front of Him as they moved towards the exit. "I can't understand what you're saying, Guillaume, you talk too fast," Voldemort said in a taunting voice Hermione knew all too well.

Guillaume narrowed his eyes. "Oh yes? Well I hope you can understand this –"

The rest of his speech came out in angry French. Voldemort narrowed his eyes. _"Ta gueule!"_ He finally snapped and whirled out of the room followed by Hermione. Once out, he put his arm around her waist and Disapparated.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked once they Apparated into their hotel's lobby.

"Of course," Tom replied offhandedly as they made their way across the yellow marble floor towards reception. "Hello, we have two reservations. One under Halloway, the other Riddle."

"ID's please," the girl asked. Hermione rummaged around in her bag until she found her fake identification card which she handed to Voldemort. The hotel girl looked in her large, leather-bound book until she found their reservation. She went off to get the keys and came back with a smile.

"Mr. Riddle, Ms. Halloway, your room cards." She handed each an envelope with the hotel logo on it. "Your things have already been brought up, right?"

"Yes," Voldemort said shortly, "thank you."

"Gregor here will escort each of you to your rooms. My name is Louise, and if you have any problems or requests feel free to let me know. Enjoy your stay at the Grand Marnier." Hermione almost laughed at how robotic the girl had sounded, even her cocked head and toothy smile seemed straight out of an employee etiquette manual.

Hermione followed Voldemort and the bellhop across the small foyer and towards a pair of hidden elevators. Gregor called it, and they all waited outside the polished golden doors in silence. Hermione chanced a glance up at the Dark Lord, but he didn't look at her. He seemed to be staring at his reflection on the elevator doors. Finally, there was a ding as the elevator arrived to take them. The doors parted, and they stepped in.

"You are on the 4th floor," Gregor explained pressing the button. "A continental breakfast is included with your room and is served from 8 am till 10:30 am." With another ding, they arrived at their floor. They got out and walked a short while down the carpeted lavish hall until they reached a room marked _'408' _. "Ms. Halloway, this is your room," Gregor said reaching out towards Hermione. "Do you have your key card?" Hermione took it out and gave it to him. He waved it over a small white surface under the doorknob until a ding went off, and the door unlocked. "To lock your door, simply shut it," he said.

"You can leave us here, Gregor," the Dark Lord drawled while taking money out of his pocket and handing it to him. The boy thanked them and went back down the hall to the elevators. Voldemort pushed the door in and entered the room, Hermione followed him. The Dark Lord looked around the room briefly before turning his attention onto Hermione.

"Are you hungry?"

Hermione nodded, her stomach had been growling for a while now.

"Change, and I'll come get you in twenty minutes," he said briefly before going out. Hermione nodded to the closed door and turned towards the bed next to which was her suitcase. She sat down on the carpeted floor and opened the bag with a sigh as she started sifting through its contents.

Twenty minutes passed by really quickly and before long, Hermione had freshened up and was ready. Hermione leaned back against the bed's headboard to wait for him. Before long, ten more minutes had passed and still no sign of the Dark Lord; so Hermione got off the bed and went to the bathroom to retouch her makeup and make sure everything was in place. Also, she didn't want to feel the nagging worry she was feeling at his tardiness. At 2:45, Hermione actually ventured out of her room. She walked up and down the hallway looking for any indication of which room could be his, but finally gave up and came back to her own. As soon as she opened her door, the strong smell of men's cologne hit her nose. She smiled and leaned against the wallpapered wall. He turned around as soon as he heard her come in; Hermione's smile widened when she saw how nice he looked. She blushed and looked down briefly before looking back up and sauntering over towards Him.

"You look nice," she muttered, coming over to Him. "Why so dressed up?"

He frowned while looking down at her. "I'm just wearing a white oxford and black pants."

"You smell nice, too," Hermione said with a smile while putting her arms around his neck and bringing his head down for a kiss. Her fingers played around with the hair on the back of his head while they kissed feverishly. Finally they broke it off.

"Are you going to take the Polyjuice potion?"

"Yeah . . ." Hermione said stepping back and getting the Polyjuice potion vial out of her purse on the ottoman at the foot of the bed. She sat down on the bed while uncorking the vial and drinking its contents. She frowned and moaned slightly at the bad taste and ensuing transformation. Thankfully, the transformations seemed to get easier and faster the more one did them, and so Hermione was back on her feet in no time. "Okay," she said.

They made small talk all the way up to the restaurant on the top floor.

"This restaurant is famous for their views of the city," Voldemort commented on their way to the podium where the host stood in an immaculate suit.

"The restaurant itself is quite beautiful," Hermione commented while looking around.

"I have a reservation for 2:30 under Riddle," Tom told the host who looked in his book and then grabbed a couple of menus.

"Right this way please." He led them past a couple of booths and towards a small, white table-clothed table. Hermione was pleasantly surprised to see the host pulling back her chair for her. Hermione smiled and thanked him silently. The host returned her smile politely and added. "Your server will be right with you." He then, took off. Hermione looked back at the Dark Lord who had taken the cloth napkin and laid it on his lap with meticulous care. Hermione smiled and decided to play with Him a little. She leaned forward on her forearms.

"Did you see the way he was acting around me?"

Voldemort looked up. "Just like any waiter begging for tips?"

"No," Hermione snapped and then added, "he likes me."

"He knows you're taken," the Dark Lord said.

"How? I'm not wearing my ring!" Hermione waved her bare hand in front of him.

"Maybe because you're with me?" Voldemort went on in a condescending tone.

Hermione grinned shyly. "You're so cute when you're jealous," she said silently.

"I'm not jealous," he snapped forcefully; it was hard to tell whether he was more insulted at being called 'cute' or 'jealous'.

"Yes, you are!" Hermione went on gleefully.

"No I am not, now drop it!" he snapped, his voice raised so that the people around them turned. Hermione narrowed her eyes slowly and then looked around briefly before slowly placing her hand over His.

"Tom, calm down. I was just joking . . . ."

He pulled his hand out from under hers as the waiter came over.

_"Bon apres-midi et bienvenue a la Tour du Grand Marnier. Je m'appelle Francois et je serai votre serveur. Est-ce vous –"_

"We're not ready, yet," Voldemort said cutting the waiter off. "Come back in five minutes."

"Of course," the waiter said before turning away.

Hermione watched the waiter go before turning to look back at Tom. "How'd you learn French?" she asked conversationally.

"It's necessary to know other languages. I don't like to limit myself," Voldemort replied cryptically.

"Yes, but how did you learn?" Hermione said slowly.

He shrugged and looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the entire side of the restaurant, enabling the onlooker to see the Arc of Triumph in the distance along with the Garden of Tuileries and La Concorde underneath them.

"Oh . . . picked it up here and there," he said offhandedly. Just then, another waiter came over to their table and poured water into their glasses and set a basket of bread and warm butter on their table.

"Really? Just like you picked up law?" Hermione said with equal nonchalance.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Don't get fresh with me."

Hermione pouted at him. "Why are you so secretive? It's not like you're giving away the key to your destruction by telling me how you learned French or that you were a lawyer."

"Just because I went to law school doesn't mean I'm a lawyer," Voldemort reiterated while drinking from his glass of water. "You have to practice to be considered a lawyer. Now, do you know what you're getting?"

Hermione let out an exasperated mental groan before averting her eyes and focusing them on the menu. It was no use attempting to establish a normal conversation with Him. "What are you getting?"

"Veal ragoutte with pappardelle pasta."

"Oh," Hermione said briefly, "Okay, well I . . ." she went back to looking at the menu. "I'll have the same, I guess."

She put the menu down on the table and smiled.

"Why are you smiling?" he asked lowly, a faint smirk on his face. Hermione shrugged.

"Just because . . . I'm . . . that's what people do!" she cursed herself for her face felt searing hot. She must look like a stoplight. Indeed, Voldemort laughed silently at her, and Hermione felt a flame of anger coming over her. It was clear he had meant to put her in the spot and relish in her discomfort.

"Oh come now, Hermione!" he whispered, the smile still plastered on his face. Hermione glared at Him, but felt her anger vanishing at the sight of him. He really did look quite handsome . . .damn him. Before he could make another remark, the waiter came over and took their orders before sauntering off to another table. Hermione was still a tad angry at him; so she didn't even try to make conversation with Him. Instead, she tore off a piece of bread and got busy putting butter on it.

"What? Now you're not going to talk to me?" Hermione looked up briefly at Him, he still had that devilishly handsome smirk on his face, an intoxicating air of nonchalance about him. She hated Him. She snapped her eyes off Him and back onto her piece of bread.

He sighed and leaned back in his seat. "Fine, I went to Oxvard and studied law with a corporate focus. I obviously excelled in everything and, when I graduated, I went on becoming Dark Lord."

"So you never intended on practicing?" Hermione asked.

He shook his head. "No, I always had an interest in law, and so I satisfied my curiosity."

"Are you sure you didn't do family law?" Hermione said with a small smile, "After all, you seemed to know an awful lot about divorce procedures."

"In your first year you had to take certain mandatory courses, and family law happened to be one of them," he said quietly before shrugging.

"What was it like? Did you like it?" Hermione asked, trying to sound uninterested.

"Yes, it was nice," he said, "you learn a lot, you drink twice as much coffee and pay three times your net worth."

Hermione laughed. "True . . . well, it is a private school. Would you do it again, though?"

"Are you interested in law?" Voldemort said with slightly narrowed eyes.

"I thought about it for a while . . ." Hermione confessed, "I wanted to apply to law schools after I graduated from Hogwarts, but the war got in the way, and then I got engaged . . . ." She shrugged and smiled sadly.

"I don't see you as a lawyer," he said briefly, "you're not suited for a corporate lifestyle, you like helping people too much."

"Well, that's what lawyers are for!" Hermione said, "they help people get justice!"

He snorted. "Not if you want to be successful."

"I wouldn't want to make thousands of galleons," Hermione said stubbornly, "just enough to live off comfortably."

"Hermione, no matter what field of law you go into, you will find that corruption abounds. That's why I tell you, you are not suited for law. You are too nice, you are too soft," He ended quietly just as the waiter came with their plates.

"I would want to go into law even more then," Hermione said fierily, "so that I could set an example of how a lawyer is truly supposed to be like."

He smirked. "Well, good luck to you then."

The next few minutes went by silently as they ate; Hermione was so famished, she didn't even bother to look up at him. Instead, she was worrying about the rapidly shrinking amount of food on her plate. She was almost completely through, and her hunger had yet to abate! Damn _nouvelle cuisine_ . . . .

"You might want to slow down," he muttered. "I'm not even halfway done."

"Well, then you're not half as hungry as I am," Hermione countered.

He sighed rather loudly.

They ate in silence for the rest of the meal; after a while, it got awkward for Hermione who asked, "so, how does Guillaume know the minister?"

"He's one of the Supreme justices," Voldemort answered silently, "but I would much rather not discuss anything pertaining to those matters in a public place such as this."

Hermione took this as a veiled sign that the Dark Lord was not in the talking mood. Indeed, he seemed lost in thought while pushing the remains of his meal around. "Do you have a cocktail dress or nice suit for tomorrow night?"

"I brought the silver dress," Hermione replied.

"Hmm. . . ." he shook his head. "No, you'll need to get one then. We'll go now."

He stood up and motioned for Hermione to do the same. Hermione hesitated. "We can't just leave without paying!"

"No one said we were, now get up!" he snapped while walking past her and towards the exit where the host stood. Hermione grabbed her coat and followed him, she saw him stop in front of the host and begin talking to him. Hermione sped up her pace to catch up to him.

"And add a galleon for tip."

The host nodded and smiled at them. "Alright, thank you for dining with us." Hermione returned his smile, but was forced to take it off her face quickly as Voldemort grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out.

"What is wrong with you?" she hissed. "One moment you are all quiet and brooding, and the next you are acting like we are on a race or something!"

"You don't know how long it's going to take you to find a dress," he said, "I am merely taking provisions by going early."

"Well, do you know where we will shop?" Hermione asked as they got out of the elevator and began crossing the foyer.

"There are a lot of stores around here."

"Yes, but at what price range?"

"I'm sure we can find something moderate."

Hermione said no more as they got out into the Parisian streets and started going down the busy shop-lined street.

* * *

It wasn't often that Ronald Weasley could honestly say he was irate at the headmaster, but today happened to be one of those occasions. He still couldn't believe that Dumbledore would put his stupid alliance before Hermione, but then again maybe he shouldn't be surprised, Ron reasoned as he walked out of the meeting room. After all, if the Alliance failed, Dumbledore would lose his last thread of credibility and respect. _Stupid, self-centered little –_

"Weasley!"

Ron stopped by the door and turned to see Bellatrix walking towards him, she shoved Ginny out of the way and glared at everyone else while she made her way through the crowd. Ron looked around for Harry, he saw him hanging back with Dumbledore. However, as soon as the boy had heard Bellatrix calling, his eyes had gone onto Ron.

"What do you want?" Ron asked impatiently, he really didn't want to be seen talking alone with Lestrange.

"We need to talk again," she said while crossing her arms. "Meet me in the hidden room after dinner." With that she turned on her heel and went up the stairs to her room. Ron stood by the door, wondering what she could possibly want to discuss with him. Truth was, he didn't want to talk to anyone. He wanted to go home and write Hermione.

"Ron."

"Hey," the redhead greeted Harry.

"What did she want?" Harry asked nodding towards the upstairs.

Ron shrugged. "She still believes that her master left her for Hermione, so she was just giving me her usual hate speech."

Together, they made their way towards the dining room where Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were setting food on the table. As soon as she saw the boys, she put them to work carrying silverware and glasses, and before long, the table was set.

"Do you think Bellatrix is eating with us?" Ginny asked Ron.

"Why would I know?" he snapped.

"Because you're the only one she talks to," Ginny snapped back.

"I saw her going upstairs," Harry cut in before Ron could say something hurtful.

Molly nodded cheerily. "She hasn't come down for the past few days, we'll just send her food up. That way it's better for both of us." She looked up at Ginny. "Ginny, dear, go and ask who's staying for dinner."

Ron took a seat next to Harry as they watched Mrs. Weasley go back in the kitchen.

"I can't believe Dumbledore won't let Hermione get off the mission," Ron said.

Harry nodded. "I know, but don't worry, I'll talk to him. We'll pressure him together, for Hermione."

Ron smiled. "Thanks . . . I just want things to go back to the way they were. We were so happy before, and now I barely see her! She's living alone with him! I mean –" he shook his head. "I think she's just realized that she's gotten in over her head. She should've listened to me before! Not been so stubborn!" He sighed and raised his hands before dropping them on his knees in a futile expression.

"Well, last we saw her she was fine," Harry said, "and He's under a vow so he can't do anything to her at least."

"Yes, but still . . ." Ron paused for a few seconds, his thoughts elsewhere. "Just because he can't do physical harm doesn't mean he can't do other types of harm." He looked down at her hands.

Harry remained silent. "Hermione is a strong person, Ron, she wouldn't fall to his manipulations. You have to trust her."

"I'm still worried," he said while shaking his head, "I don't know why, but I just am."

"Boys, eat up!" Mrs. Weasley called out to Ron and Harry who were brought out of their thoughts abruptly. They looked around only to notice that the whole table had been filled with the residents of Grimmauld Place who were now attacking the many foods Molly had cooked up. Neither Ron nor Harry ate much that dinner, they were both thinking about their missing friend. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see that they weren't the only forlorn ones: the headmaster kept throwing occasional glances at Ron, glances filled with more conflicting emotions than grains of salt in a saltshaker.

Dinner went by quietly for the brooding three, and once it was over, Ron said goodbye and snuck back to the secret room to meet Bellatrix.

"Does it always take you this long to eat?" Bellatrix asked with a snarl, she was sitting on the sofa with her arms crossed.

"You bitch, I leave," Ron said shortly.

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "Such lowly vocabulary, but I suppose with your upbringing it's the most one could expect."

Ron turned around towards the door.

"I want to help you with Hermione."

Ron stopped in his tracks, his head turned slightly to the side as he eyed her from the corner of his eye. He turned around.

"Help me with what?"

"I want her to pull out as much as you," Bellatrix said solemnly, "I don't want her anywhere near my lord."

"There is nothing going on between them, Bellatrix."

"Not according to the picture," she rasped, her eyes glazing over slightly.

"No." Ron shook his head and stepped back. "No, there is nothing going on between them."

"I'm not saying there's anything going on between them, but all I know is that your whore of a fiancée wants to sink her claws into my lord!" Bellatrix shrieked.

"No she wouldn't!" Ron screamed, "She would never stoop so low!"

As soon as the words left Ron's mouth, he knew he'd made a mistake. Bellatrix's eyes flashed and she flung a vase at him, Ron ducked just as she started coming over towards him. "YOU FILTHY BLOOD TRAITOR HOW DARE YOU? STOOPING SO LOW! HA, THAT FILTHY MUGGLE BITCH WOULD BE SO LUCKY! THE DARK LORD IS THE ONE THAT SHOULD NEVER STOOP THAT LOW, AND I - WON'T- LET- HIM!"

During her whole rant, Ron kept ducking the artifacts she was throwing at him. Once she had run out of things to throw, she started beating him with her fists. Unfortunately for her, Ron subdued her rapidly and threw her on the ground.

"You're lucky I'm under a vow, or else I would torture you! I would hear your sweet screams of anguish, and they would soothe me! You know why? Because I would imagine they were your mudblood bitch fiancée's!" Bellatrix shrieked from where she had sat up on the carpet; her wand clenched tightly in her hand.

"You need to be locked up," Ron snapped.

Bellatrix shrieked and raised her wand at him, Ron raised his as well just as he heard her casting the Cruciatus curse only to fall on her back with a frustrated scream and a bloodied wrist.

"I can't cast it! Why can't I cast it?" Bellatrix was moaning, rocking herself on the ground. "I am weak, I am so weak . . . that's why He left me, what would my great master want with such a weak wretched being like myself? I can't even defend his reputation . . . ."

Ron shook his head with an air of frustration as he moved towards the door. Once he was halfway out of it, he ventured to say, "Bellatrix, you need to stop making excuses for him and move on! He's a bastard. He used you for his pleasure, and now that he bore of you, he threw you aside."

Ron slammed the door shut when he saw the leather-bound book zooming towards him.

* * *

"Oh! Tom!" Hermione gasped and closed her eyes as she arched her back with each of his thrusts. "Ohh!"

He drowned out her increasingly loud moans with a ferocious kiss; Hermione wrapped her legs around him to ensure deeper penetration as they both moaned and gasped their pleasure into each other's mouth.

"Hermione," he moaned as she tightened herself around him to increase friction. Hermione broke the kiss when she felt herself starting to come; she pushed him on his back as something primal took over her, and she started riding him. It didn't take too long for them to come afterwards. Still breathing heavy, Hermione laid herself over him, her head on the crook of his neck.

He placed his hand on her ass and stroked it absentmindedly as he closed his eyes. Hermione sat back up on him and lifted herself off him while laying down beside him. As soon as he felt himself coming out of her, he opened his eyes and lazily watched Hermione as she came to rest next to him.

"Have you spoken to Guillaume?" Hermione said suddenly.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. "When we were there."

"I meant after," Hermione said, "because of the fight . . . ."

He smiled and sniffed humorously as a low chuckle rumbled from his throat. His arm wrapped itself around her waist and pulled her towards him. "You're cute."

"No, I'm serious," Hermione said, slapping him playfully on the chest. "Are you two on speaking terms?"

"Of course," he said looking amused. "You'll see tomorrow, he'll be acting like nothing happened. We always fight and make up without having to say or do anything, we're like brothers. Why do you think I pulled out the box of cigars? I knew it would drive him crazy, he's the biggest cigar aficionado I know." He chuckled.

"You're mean," she said with a small smile, her head on his armpit and her hand on his left pectoral.

"I can't be that mean if I make you feel so good . . ." he muttered turning his head towards hers and burying it next to her neck which he started sucking.

"Tom . . ." she moaned, stretching out her neck and giving him more access as he rolled on top of her once more.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's note: So Kayellis raised a good point which I feel I should address as it is a common misconception that exists: aren't sociopaths and psychopaths the same thing? NO. They are different. They both suffer from anti-social personality disorder (they are cold, uncaring, and selfish; have a general disregard for others and appear to have no conscience). however, the similarities end there. Psychopaths are clinically insane, they relish in pain, they kill and torture people simply because it's fun or they get pleasure out of it ( a la Bellatrix). Sociopaths are not insane per say as they are able to mask their sociopathic tendencies by putting on a charming and normal front. In other words, they can control themselves while psychopaths can't. Sociopaths only kill or torture if it suits their purposes, not for the fun of it. They get no fun or pleasure from it like the psychopaths. They have an 'ends justify the means' mentality. Everything they do is for an end, and in order to reach that end, they will stop at nothing. Many politicians are considered sociopaths (Dick Cheney, Julius Cesar, etc) and some psychopaths would be (Charlie Manson, Caligula, Ted Bundy). Also, psychopaths are born while sociopaths are made through their environment (they are born with a predisposition towards sociopathy, but it is up to their environment to trigger it. Otherwise they are normal people- a little cold- but normal). So, yes, food for thought, people.

I would like to thank my loyal reviewers!

Alannalove1990, Nerys, Patricia de Lioncourt, Genevieve, JuicycoutureValerie, Alrauna, Elspethe, Kayellis, Sweet-Tang-Honey, Ilovenat1995, Apsaras Yoma, Serpent in Red, Monnbeam,Harrypottergirl4life, Jade253, Lk-Hogwarts-Headgirl, Inkfire, POM-frenchreader, angelicpixie, the-quiet-girl, ilovesiriusorionblack, Sailor2moon.

Oh and for those who brought it up:

No! Hermione is not pregnant.

Nerys: I know that in England the term for lawyers is barrister/ solicitor, but I'm not English so I'm going to use the American terms for things.

* * *

The next day Hermione spent mostly getting ready for the dinner party that night. The day before, she and Voldemort had gotten a black cocktail dress for her to wear. _Actually_, Hermione thought_, Voldemort was the one that bought the dress; after all, he picked it; made me try it on, and decided he liked it so we were buying it._ Thankfully for Hermione, it was a rather conservative and plain black dress. It hit right above the knee and was tight enough to show off her figure, but not spandex-tight to show off her curves. After that, Lord Control Freak, as she'd started calling Him (in her head, of course) had announced that she needed a pearl necklace to go with the black dress and proceeded on dragging her to the nearest jewelry store which happened to be Mikimoto. Hermione had refused to go in because she knew enough about pearls, to know that Mikimoto happened to be way out of her budget. In the end, they went to a smaller store and bought a single strand of fake, small pearls.

Now, Hermione was up in her room, a mere hour away from the dinner party, putting on the black cocktail dress and string of pearls. She had gotten her hair, nails and makeup done at the hotel spa through an appointment made by a certain Mister. Hermione had rolled her eyes when she found out through the spa personnel, that Mr. Riddle had given exact specifications for how her hair, make up and nails were to be done. Her hair was to be straightened, up in a bun, with "_gently flowing tendrils framing the face_". Hermione had to press her tongue against the inside of her mouth to stop herself from cracking up at that. _Oh I'm framing this note . . . Harry will get a kick out of it. _For the nails, it was a French with a light pink glaze and the make up was to be _"light around the eyes with bold red for the lips."_ Thankfully for the hairdresser, her fake blonde hair was naturally straight and docile so it had taken them no time to pin it up into an elegant bun. The French manicure was also quite nice, Hermione observed as she looked at her hands. She had decided to wear her Gryffindor ring; however, she knew He would not approve it; so she had it hidden in her pocket until after his check up. Yes, he had had a note delivered to her room saying that he would be coming half hour before the dinner party to check up on her and make sure everything was _"up to par"._ Hermione rolled her eyes and placed his note in the small envelope she had now designated to store his notes. She figured she would save them for when she had a bad day and needed something to make her laugh. Some women might've taken offense at Voldemort's overbearing attitude in regards to their appearance; however, Hermione didn't mind at all for fashion and makeup had never been her thing, and it had always been a struggle trying to figure out what went with what. This way, it was like being a live doll; all she had to do was do what he said, and she was sure to look good in the end. Hermione had realized this just a few moments ago as she stared at herself in the mirror. She had been extremely weary of the bright red lipstick looking clown-like; however, since the rest of her face had been left almost completely natural, it balanced out the flamboyant lip color. Her red lips also caused a nice contrast with her plain, black dress. Hermione sat down in front of the vanity to wait for him, as she didn't want to stand in heels anymore than she had to. She summoned a piece of parchment and started writing a letter to Ron; just when she was almost finished with her two-sided letter, she was startled by his appearance in the middle of her room.

"Oh my god," Hermione said placing a hand over her heart, "don't do that again!"

"Stand up, you're wrinkling the dress, and I can't look at you if you're hunched over like that," he snapped. Hermione placed her unfinished letter on the vanity and stood up.

"Oh forgive me, your highness," she said in a lofty and mocking tone. She even curtseyed for that extra effect. He didn't even acknowledge her though, as he was too busy scrutinizing her from foot to head. Hermione writhed slightly under his severe gaze.

"Turn around slowly," he said.

She narrowed her eyes at first and was about to ask why, but finally conceded. After all, it was a bit too late for her to be worried about him gazing at her backside since she'd already slept with him.

He walked up to her. "Hands."

She placed them both in his large palm.

"Am I good?" she asked after a few seconds. His hand closed around her fingers while he placed his other hand over them.

"I knew you would look good like that," he muttered while running his thumb over her chin, the tip of his finger barely brushing the edge of her lips.

"You look good,too," Hermione said running her hand down the satin lapel of his black tuxedo. He was wearing a vest underneath his buttoned up tux, it was plain taupe and matched the patterned tie he wore which, Hermione noticed, was made of the same fabric as the pocket square peeking out of his vest breast pocket.

"I need to talk to you about tonight," he said moving towards the bed and motioning for her to sit. "The plans have changed."

"What?" Hermione asked.

"We were going with plan B because the Minister of Defense was coming; however, Guillaume owled me this morning to tell me that he cancelled, and that the Minister will be the only one in attendance; so I am going with Plan A."

"And what does Plan A entail?" Hermione asked.

"It entails you staying away from me," he said solemnly, hands clasped.

Hermione frowned. "Wait . . . what?"

"Tonight it's all about the Minister," he said slowly, "and so I need to get this deal through because I will not have a second opportunity. You'll be fine though, Guillaume's wife –."

"No!" Hermione snapped. "I am not going to be shunned from this and made to waste time with wives. I didn't come here to socialize, I came with you to help you –" She emphasized the helping part. " – and if you are too sexist to accept my help, and now think you can just send me to a corner to make small talk with wives, you're wrong." Throughout her rant, the Dark Lord kept saying her name, but Hermione ignored him. "- There is no way in hell I am going to accept your chauvinistic attitude towards women and politics! I am going to be involved whether you want to or not, and if not, I will tell Dumbledore that you shut his representative, and thus him, from the meeting."

"She's a woman," he said tensely.

Hermione frowned and crossed her arms while shifting her weight onto her one foot. "What?"

"The Minister, Gagnon, is a woman," he said slowly, "her name is Elizabeth."

Hermione's frowned deepened. "But then I still don't get why you would want me to –" Her eyes widened. "Oh no, you're not planning on sleeping your way to this deal, are you?"

"If that's what it takes," he said looking up at her. "I don't think it'll get that far though because she's married, well, separated," he added as an afterthought. "I _will_ have to make use of my . . . more charming side though, and I can't do that if you're in the seat next to me." He looked up at her with slightly pursed lips. Hermione shook her head and sat back down next to him. Wow, so her rant had been completely off base and uncalled for . . . she hated feeling stupid.

"So, what do you want me to do tonight? I mean why am I even going if you don't want me to intervene anymore?" Hermione said sounding put out.

"You can do whatever you want, but just leave Gagnon and I alone."

Hermione crossed her arms. "So you want me to let you go off to a corner with her and trust that you are convincing her to reach an agreement that is beneficial to both our sides? You know that one of the main rules in the alliance was that the emissary from the opposite side had to attend all meetings and dealings – "

"Emissary, yes, but I don't think you should consider yourself just an emissary anymore," he said lowly and with a smirk while grabbing her elbow and pulling her towards him. Hermione slapped his chest and turned her head away from him.

"No! You'll ruin my makeup . . . ."

He chuckled against her neck making Hermione shudder at the pleasant sensation that erupted on her neck.

"Well, getting a bit shallow, now are we . . . if I didn't know any better I would say I'm rubbing off on you . . . ." She could feel him grinning against her neck, Hermione couldn't help but smile sheepishly at the sexual undertones, his crisp smelling cologne and skillful teeth work on her neck, ensnaring her senses.

"Oh … Tom . . . ."

Just as she was about to put her arms around him, he pulled back.

"We should go, I don't want to be late," he said and started going towards the door. Hermione was so surprised at his abrupt exit, that she stayed rooted to her spot until he went out of her room at which time the muggleborn realized his play. "That manipulative, conniving son of a bitch," she muttered as she grabbed her coat and went out.

* * *

"Tom, Jane, welcome," Guillaume greeted them as they were ushered into the formal, Victorian-style sitting room by their French host. "We are almost ready here," he said as they all took a seat. "Veronique is checking the food . . . she'll be out in a minute."

"That's fine," Tom said.

"Would you like a drink?" Guillaume asked, "a whiskey, perhaps?"

"If you don't mind," Tom said lightly.

"Water is fine for me," Hermione said courteously.

Guillaume nodded and went out the room leaving them alone in silence.

"Don't think you got away with it back there," Hermione muttered.

"I have no idea what you are referring to," Vodlemort muttered delicately, the smirk on his face not helping his case.

"I will be eavesdropping on you two. . . so don't try anything," Hermione said attempting to sound serious.

"Fine, but if you get in my way or ruin anything, I will make it my top priority to find a way around the vow to make you pay."

Hermione glared at him; this caused him to send her a smug smirk which infuriated Hermione.

"You won't have to worry, Tom, I'll make sure to stay out of your way while you whore yourself out for Dumbledore."

She sniffed humorously and gave him the same smirk he had given her. Oh how she loved the fact that He was under a vow and couldn't do anything. . . . Unfortunately, Hermione's moment of triumph didn't last long. The Dark Lord had gone quiet after her statement and was now staring at his nails. His face was lacking with expression, and Hermione was made uneasy by this and the added silence; soon she found herself wishing Guillaume would come back into the room.

"Keep pressing my buttons, and you will see consequences," Voldemort muttered finally in a deathly calm voice. Before Hermione could say anything, Guillaume entered the room with a black-haired woman in a skirt suit.

"Tom, you remember Veronique," Guillaume said motioning towards the polished woman on his side, his hand laid possessively on her back.

"Of course," he smiled sweetly and kissed her held out hand.

Hermione had to bite her lip to keep herself from rolling her eyes. Oh, this was too much.

"Oh, Mr. Riddle! Always the charmer," Veronique said with a slight accent, it was more marked than her husband's.

"If I am to call you Veronique, you are to call me Tom, madame," Voldemort said lowly.

Veronique smiled and nodded just as her attention was turned towards Hermione whom Guillaume had waved over. "This is Jane, Tom's so called 'assistant'." He laughed loudly. Hermione blushed and smiled awkwardly along with Veronique.

"Your lack of maturity is disappointing, Guillaume, as I have told you before our relationship is strictly professional," Voldemort said in his usual cold, mocking tone.

Guillaume snorted. "Professional? You? Please Tom, no woman that is within a 5 mile radius of you is safe!"

He laughed boisterously while the two women laughed nervously along. Voldemort sipped his drink with one perfectly raised eyebrow. "It's better that you get all of this out of your system now, because when the Minister arrives none of this type of talk will be appropriate."

"I know that," Guillaume replied, "lighten up, we're amongst friends now."

"How you became a politician I will never know," Tom said quietly. This caused Guillaume to erupt in laughter and pat his back repeatedly.

"Ah! There's that Riddle humor!" roared Guillaume.

Hermione shifted her weight anxiously; she desperately wanted to go back home. She felt so out of place right now, and she was seriously wondering how on earth Guillaume and Tom could've ever been friends. They seemed to be radical opposites.

"_Monsieur, monsieur_," called out one of the waiters. "_Madame la ministre est arrivee."_

Hermione didn't know whether to feel relieved or worried. Oh great, let the awkwardness begin. Why was she even here? It's not like he wanted her to talk or help him out, He'd just told her to stay away. Hermione finished that thought with a bitter note. Why did he have to insist on doing things alone? She was more than capable of helping him; she knew their angle after all. Before she knew it, she was dragged out of her reverie by the entrance of a woman in an elegant black skirt suit. Her light brown hair with blonde highlights was down and framed her face; Hermione noted with a grimace that she was quite beautiful. However, she seemed to be accompanied by a man who looked to be the Minister of Defense. Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly and turned towards Voldemort to see what his reaction was; however, He had his charming mask on, and once the curtains of the performance came up, the mask never came off.

"Tom, Jane, the Minister Elizabeth Gagnon and the Minister of Defense, General Jean-Pierre Guissant."

Hermione smiled politely as she watched them shake the Dark Lord's hand. She noticed Guissant grasped the Dark Lord's hand with extra strength and stared him straight into the eyes with unyielding intensity. _Hmmm… looks like this negotiation won't be so easy or uneventful after all_, thought Hermione. She wondered if He would still want her to stay away from him; after all, Guissant seemed to somehow be up to the Dark Lord's game because he made sure to stay right by Elizabeth's side.

"Well, Jean-Pierre, what a pleasant surprise. I thought you weren't coming," Guillaume said as they settled in their seats in the formal sitting room. "Glad you could make it."

"Well, how could I pass a chance to be amongst such esteemed company?" Jean-Pierre said with a small smile; he gave a silent nod towards the Dark Lord in acknowledgement who smiled robotically.

"Well then, I will try my best to make it worth your while," replied the Dark Lord with what Hermione knew was fake amiability.

Everyone smiled in a reserved fashion, the tension in the room palpable.

"So how was the trip here?" the Minister said looking between Voldemort and Hermione who were now seated next to each other.

"Short and manageable," the Dark Lord responded quietly. "We leave tomorrow."

"Oh that's a pity," Elizabeth said, "you must be a busy man. Especially in these times."

"Indeed, just like you and your cabinet, I am sure," Voldemort said as he looked around the room with a half smile. "Elections are coming up, too . . . that's an extra load on your shoulders."

"As are all elections," Guissant cut in before leaning back against the sofa, his many military badges and pins glinting in the reflected light from the chandelier. "But this is not what this is about, Riddle, now give us your spiel so we can turn you down and leave."

"Guissant!" snapped Gagnon as she turned her head towards the general and reproached him in whispered French.

"I am a military man, Elizabeth," he replied while looking at Voldemort. "I don't care for all this phony Bourgeois politics." He waved his hand as he said the latter before bringing it back down on his large stomach. "I am a man of the people, and us unpolished folk don't have time for this sophism."

Just when the Minister looked to be about to respond rather angrily, Voldemort jumped in.

"No, Minister," Voldemort said rapidly, "General Guissant is right. Small talk is not what we are here for, we should go straight to the crux of the matter." Hermione watched him pause and then continue as his voice gained strength, and his tone changed into the one Hermione loved so much. "I know that Rufus Scrimgeour has spoken with you already; I know that he told you I am a threat to your government and country -"

"Well, you are a terrorist," Jean-Pierre grumbled from under his grey moustache.

"Robespierre and Danton could also be considered terrorists; yet if it hadn't been for them, there wouldn't have been a French Revolution which would've prevented unpolished folk such as yourself, from occupying the high ranking position you happen to be a privy of."

Hermione smiled inwardly at the cold and angry glance Guissant sent to the Dark Lord, it was clear he wouldn't be interrupting for a while. The Minister and Guillaume were both unreadable, their well-rehearsed poker faces impenetrable.

"As I was saying," the Dark Lord went on in a flat tone, "Scrimgeour is going around Europe advertising myself as a bete noire; he is attributing to me every criminal occurrence that has transpired on this side of the pond in the last 20 years; he has even used me as a scapegoat whenever one of his less... _respectable_ plans came to light. I, however, will not do the same; I am not here to name call and point fingers erroneously like he did, for I do not want to insult your intelligence nor waste your time. In my defense to his accusations, all I will say is that any crimes that my associates or I have been responsible for, I have made known through the casting of the Dark Mark over the scene. I have no problem letting people know how far I will go to achieve what I see as a just cause. Now, I am sure that you are all familiar with my aims or, at least, what other people perceive to be my aims; however, I would like to tell you myself so you can draw your own, unbiased conclusions."

He paused briefly before wetting his lips and going on.

"My lifelong goal is and has always been to preserve magic amongst those who are born into it. To allow Muggleborns to join our society is a risky and, in time, detrimental action. Little by little, customs and traditions are dying out as this new blood comes in and brings in their own customs. For example, just last year the British ministry started supplying Muggle paper along with the traditional parchment. Now, I know this is a menial example, but it is small things like that that are undermining the fabric of our society. First, it starts with paper," he said while standing up and going towards the floor-length windows overlooking the city; he turned to face them. "It's a small change, some might say, harmless . . . but is it really? Isn't this a perfect setup for a chain reaction? First, paper is instituted along with parchment at the ministry; now, the ministry is in talks to get rid of parchment altogether in their offices and utilize paper alone for it is much more cost effective as the exchange rate amongst Muggle pounds and Wizarding Galleons is quite good. Next, Hogwarts, being a state school, will utilize paper for official documents, and it won't be long before students start doing so as well as it is a lot more convenient, cost effective and portable. Next, disposable pens would probably replace quills . . . then computers at the library for it would be easier and cheaper for the ministry to start an online database of books than to have to buy new books every year; then cars instead of broomsticks. . . and before we know it, our society has lost its millenary culture and acquired the muggle consumerist one."

"Mr. Riddle, if I may," Elizabeth cut in, "you make a very compelling point, but I believe that for the French ministry it is a little extreme. We would never go as far as you have stated."

"Yes, Minister, _you_ wouldn't because you come from an old, established family who values tradition just like I_. _But when elections come next year, it is most likely that the liberals will win, and they, in their thirst for money, wouldn't hesitate to cut corners by utilizing Muggle technology."

Elizabeth quieted; her face remained perfectly blank. Hermione couldn't tell whether she'd been persuaded or not, but if she didn't have anything to counter, that was a good sign, right?

"Look at the United States," Voldemort went on, "they were the first magical community to fully embrace Muggle technology, and sure, with the newly cut costs, the extra money they had helped establish them as the most powerful nation in our world, but was it really worth it? As a result of the influx of Muggles from all over the world, the US became a melting pot for different Muggleborn groups, and now the original magical culture has been almost completely forgotten, and a new focus on Muggle capitalism has been instituted." He paused for a few seconds, and it was then that Hermione knew they were back to plan B.

"A good example of this would be the American wizarding educational system," Hermione said on cue, as she straightened up and projected her voice. "After all, the most elementary action in preserving a capitalistic society is the organization of the school system. In the 1950's when the Muggleborn American wizards took power, the first thing they did was model wizarding schools after Muggle state schools." Hermione broke off as soon as He took over.

"Indeed, from then on magical state schools were given minimal money by the American government so as to ensure their dismal quality and cause wealthy parents to send their kids to private schools. The masses however, could not afford the exorbitant tuitions; so they had to send their children to the state schools where they learned the bare basics of casting and spells. By doing this, the state insured that the working class kids who were educated at the public school, remained in the working class the rest of their lives and provided labor for the upper classes who went to private schools; thus, got a better education and now make unlimited amounts of money at the expense of the masses. This, my friends, is the model that was brought over by the American Muggleborns into American wizarding society earlier this decade. Capitalism is the religion of the Muggle world at this moment, and with every new Muggleborn that enters our societies, the threat of capitalism taking over grows. Now is the time to put a stop to it, we must fight tooth and nail to safeguard our identity and culture before it is lost forever much like that of the American wizards."

Everyone remained silent as he sat down and ordered a drink from one of the waiters at the corner. Hermione then turned her eyes onto Guillaume as it was his turn to speak. However, he was still in the 'look pensive and troubled for five seconds' stage, and Hermione smiled in her head at Guillaume's perfect acting: he was quite the politician.

"It's true," Guillaume muttered on cue, everyone looked up at him. He was staring at Tom; however, his lips sported a sad smile. "All over the world, wizarding communities are losing their cultures. Just think about it, Elizabeth, when we were in school, we were required to take History of Magic every single year. Now, Beauxbatons only requires History of Magic for the first three years. The children now are not getting as thorough a knowledge of our culture and history as we did. It's time, Elizabeth, it is now or never." He looked up at Voldemort and raised his glass to him in a silent salute before downing his scotch. "Scrimgeour is too friendly with the Muggles; he cares more about being reelected and maintaining his 20,000 Galleon a month paycheck than the future of his people, and if we support him we will be guilty of the same crime."

"That's all very well, but I don't think supporting a terrorist regime is the best for the people either," Jean Pierre said with a slight frown.

"I'm not asking you to support me," Voldemort said quietly, "I am not asking you for troops or financial backing like Scrimgeour. I have more than enough funding to support my cause for as long as it might take, and troops are always at hand for people are now beginning to realize our world is at stake. The only thing I ask of you is assurance that you will not go against me nor aid Scrimgeour. You can remain neutral that way, and no one need know that you came to an agreement with me. That way you don't have to worry what other countries, or the populus, will think if they find out you dealt with a terrorist," he added while giving Jean-Pierre a fake smile.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but dinner is ready," Veronique said, Hermione was surprised to see her standing in front of the door. When had she left the room? Hermione couldn't believe she had been so absorbed in the conversation, it had been so thrilling, she still had butterflies in her stomach from how well their plan had gone in spite of the major setback that Guissant's appearance had been. In between mumbles of appreciation, they all stood up and moved towards the formal dining room.

"Veronique, your setup is flawless, as always," Voldemort commented with a smile. The wife smiled and thanked him before taking her own seat at the end of the table. Guillaume called Tom and motioned for him to sit at the head of the table.

"For our guest of honor."

Voldemort chuckled and accepted the seat just as Guillaume smiled graciously at Hermione and pulled back the chair to the right of Voldemort. "For Tom's pretty little . . . _assistant_" he said the last part with a mocking tone while gazing up at the Dark Lord who pretended to not have heard him. Hermione cramped up and felt herself start to redden as the table's attention was turned towards her.

"You must excuse me," Elizabeth said, she was sitting facing Hermione and on the left of Voldemort. "You said your name was . . .?"

"Jane," Hermione said just as she was surprised by one of the waiters standing on her left with a tray; he was holding out a folded cloth napkin with a pair of tongs. Hermione took it just as she noticed Guillaume, the General and Veronique wiping their hands with the wet napkin. Hermione followed suit while looking at Elizabeth who had leaned forward slightly.

"Well, Jane, I have to tell you, and I apologize to all the males at the table," she looked around quickly, "I love your outfit. The way you coordinated your lip color to match your heels just makes the black dress pop out really well."

"There's a bag, too," Voldemort commented while wiping his hands with the heated, wet napkin, "it's also red."

"Oh yes," Hermione said with a smile, "I almost forgot . . . I left it in the sitting room, though."

"Well, how could she not be stylish with Tom as a boss," Guillaume called out. "I don't know how he does it, I'm French, and I can't do it."

The table laughed as their first course was brought in, and everyone fell quiet as the focus turned onto the food. The rest of the meal went by uneventfully, they ate and made occasional small talk. Hermione found that she was rather enjoying herself, especially whenever Guillaume talked; the man was as boisterous as the Pacific Ocean, and he created a pleasant, comfortable atmosphere at the table. Even General Guissant seemed to be relaxing. Before long, all courses had been finished, and it was time to move back to the sitting room. On the center table was a silver tray with six scotch glasses next to a silver square container. Guillaume grabbed a glass of scotch and opened the container from which he extracted a folded cloth napkin like the one they had used before the meal. Everyone else followed suit and sat in silence while wiping their hands with the moist and hot napkins. Once she was done with hers, Hermione placed it in a wicker basket lined with beige linen that had also been placed on the table.

"Well, I thank you both for a wonderful meal and even better company," Voldemort told Guillaume and Veronique before looking at Elizabeth and Guissant.

"Yes, thank you both, the food was fantastic," Elizabeth told the hosts.

"You should be thanking Tom," Guillaume said while shaking his head, "he is going to give us something even better." He turned expectantly towards his school buddy. Hermione almost laughed, it was obvious Guillaume had been waiting the whole night for this moment. Voldemort, too, seemed to have picked up on this for he snorted quietly and shook his head.

"It's in the kitchen," the Dark Lord commented.

Guillaume waved one of the waiters over and told him to bring the box. Before long, the waiter came back with the small wooden box on a silver tray. Before he could give it to Guillaume, Voldemort called the waiter over. "Bring it here."

Guillaume sent a silent glare towards Tom, almost like a kid who had had candy given to him and then taken away.

"You are all probably wondering what could be in this box that is making even a seasoned politician like Guillaume lose his composure so openly. . ." Voldemort said as he opened the box towards himself so that the lid was facing the room. "I brought my favorite after meal course." He turned the box towards them and tilted it for all to see. "Cohiba Behikes."

If Hermione was taken back by the appreciative 'oh' that Elizabeth emitted, it was nothing compared to the surprise of seeing a smile appear on Jean-Pierre Guissant's face, a feat, Hermione had thought impossible.

Voldemort held out the box to Elizabeth. "Please."

She grabbed one of the cigars and held out the box for Hermione who took one with slight hesitation, Voldemort had gone over the basics of smoking cigars with her earlier that day; he had said that it was because he didn't want her appearing unsophisticated. However, now Hermione was getting nervous at being surrounded by veteran cigar smokers, she didn't think she could act so naturally that they wouldn't suspect her to not be a seasoned smoker. Hermione watched as Elizabeth took out a fancy, gold plated lighter and lit the cigar carefully.

"Here."

Hermione accepted Voldemort's lighter with a wave of thankfulness, it was the lighter she'd practiced with that afternoon. Feeling more confident, Hermione lit the flame and started rotating the foot of the cigar. Once a few seconds had passed, she placed it between her lips and repeated the steps as she inhaled. Cigars were very hard to inhale; you really had to suck hard to get the foot lit. When Voldemort had been teaching her, Hermione couldn't do it at first; mainly because every time Voldemort would tell her to 'suck harder', she would burst out laughing. In the end, she had to stop after he threatened to choke her on his cock for real.

Hermione checked the foot of her cigar as she noticed everyone else doing the same, and with a joyous realization, she saw the foot had burned even. She looked up at Voldemort with a triumphant look; he gave her a hint of a nod and took a deep drag from his cigar. The next hour went by relatively uneventfully, there was the occasional small talk while everyone enjoyed their cigars, but most of the time it was spent in silence as the attendees mulled over what decision to take.

Finally, the night came to its end, and Hermione was grateful as she stood up and wandered over to the Dark Lord who was facing Gagnon and Guissant.

"Well, we have decided to do as you said: we will not side with Scrimgeour," Elizabeth said in a restrained voice, "however, we will not side with you. We'll remain neutral. There is however, something we will want in return."

"Naturally," Vodemort commented.

"My main rival, Burdine, grew up in England. We have our suspicions that he might've been involved with Grindelwald in his younger years; however we have no proof." Elizabeth let off and stared at the Dark Lord expectantly.

"I will do my best," He replied suavely, "any. . . unsavory details I find on his life, I will pass unto you."

She smiled and straightened up. "Well then, milord, I think we have an agreement."

Their hands met in a sturdy handshake.

"Guillaume, would you like to officiate?" Voldemort said turning towards said Frenchman who took out his wand and pointed it at the Dark Lord's and the Ministers' joined hands.

"Do you, Elizabeth Gagnon, in behalf of the great nation of France, swear to remain neutral in the fight between the British Ministry of Magic headed by Rufus Scrimgeour and Lord Voldemort?"

"I do," she said staring Tom straight in the eye.

"And do you, Lord Voldemort, nee Tom Riddle, swear to comply with Elizabeth Gagnon's request for information about Alphonse Burdine that could be detrimental to his image and handicap his candidacy?"

"To the best of my abilities and without bringing harm upon my person," Voldemort said looking at Guillaume.

"Where should I add that?"

"After you say that I swear to comply."

Guillaume turned towards Elizabeth. "Are you alright with this inclusion?"

"I suppose it's reasonable," she replied.

"Well then," Guillaume repeated, "do you, Lord Voldemort nee Tom Riddle swear to comply, to the best of your abilities and without bringing harm upon your person, with Elizabeth Gagnon's request for information about Alphonse Burdine that could be detrimental to his image and handicap his candidacy?"

"I do," the Dark Lord responded.

"Well then, you may now kiss the bride." Guillaume finished with a smile while the chords of the bond went over the Dark Lord's and the Minister's joined hands in quick circles before sinking into them and disappearing to cement the vow.

* * *

"We should have a drink to celebrate," Hermione said as they arrived at her hotel room door, and she fumbled through her bag looking for the card.

"Are you sure it's just a drink you're after?" he said lowly as she felt him bend over her and wrap his arms around her waist while kissing the side of her face.

"No, stop it," she said while prying his hands from her waist and walking in through her now open door with him after her. "Someone could see."

He sniffed humorously and followed her in with a smirk.

"Sit," she said motioning towards the sofa; however, he went right past it and towards her bed.

"I'd rather lay,"

Hermione rolled her eyes at his double entendre while she followed him towards the bed and then stopped at her suitcase. He sat down on her bed and watched as she dug around her bag.

"What are you looking for?"

"Your gift," Hermione said lightly.

He paused. "What gift?"

"For your birthday," Hermione said with a slight eye roll. Finally, she pulled out a rectangular white box wrapped with a simple green bow. "I know it's late; I meant to give it to you the day of the party, but then things happened and . . . well, I didn't get a chance to until now."

She handed him the package and sat down besides him. He stared at it thoughtfully.

"How did you know?" he finally asked while looking up at her.

"Harry."

He scrunched up his brow looking displeased. "Does the whole Order know?"

Hermione shrugged. "I can't say for sure, but I don't think so. Harry just told Ron and I."

He shook his head as he looked away from her and back down towards the package. "So apparently, Dumbledore has so little to no life, that he is disseminating what private information he stuck his crooked nose in. Wonderful."

"Oh please, it's not like knowing your birthday will help people defeat you," Hermione said while patting the present on his lap. "Open it!"

Hermione watched as he took off the bow around the package and opened the box while pushing away the white tissue paper.

"Interesting," he said quietly as he pulled out a bottle of alcohol. "Can't say I didn't need it. . . ."

Hermione smiled. "You mentioned it a couple of times, and I remembered you telling me you were out of it so. . . ."

She watched as he took the bottle of Absinthe out of its box and started reading the label. He smiled. "I don't have my utensils, but we can still drink it." Hermione followed him towards the bar in the corner where he filled two glasses with water and then measured out a certain quantity of absinthe which he mixed in along with sugar cubes he conjured with a swish of his wand.

"Can you do any spell wordlessly?" Hermione asked as she took her drink and sat down on the sofa next to the bar. She'd been wondering that for a while now; so far she had only seen him speak the Unforgivables.

"With the exception of high magical spells, yes," he said as he clinked his glass against hers and took a drink from the cool minty concoction just as she followed his example. She mulled over her thoughts while the sweet liquid ran over her tongue.

"Is it possible to achieve that though?" she wondered out loud.

"What?"

"Wordless high magic spells like the Unforgivables." She turned to face him.

He took a drink as his eyes looked away from her and onto the wall behind her. "Anything is possible with enough research and a good partnership."

Hermione regarded him silently. "I never said I was interested in actually pursuing it, it was just a question."

"And what use is asking a question and not seeking answers to it?" he murmured.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry I asked then," she said curtly while standing up. However, she was stopped by His hand on her forearm pulling her back into her seat.

"I could teach you to do wordless magic, you know," he said, "and then, once you've mastered all the common and mid-level spells, we can both begin expanding the realm of that magic to include high power spells. That's just one scenario, of course," he went on, "I could also teach you wandless or elemental magic . . . I could be an open book to you," he said while smiling at the pun.

"The price is too high," she muttered while standing up again and looking down at him.

"You've already paid half of it," he countered.

She smirked and shook her head while looking down at her glass and setting it down on the table. "And that will be all you will get from me. Now, if you'd excuse me, I'm really tired." Her voice held a note of finality and the infamous Granger stubbornness she'd been known for in her school years.

He stared at her a few seconds, and then a smirk graced his features as he sighed and waved his wand over the glasses making them disappear.

"Run all you want, Ms. Granger, you'll reach the end of the course soon."

Hermione didn't acknowledge him as she slowly took off her heels and stepped into the bathroom. Once she heard her door closing and silence taking over her room, she sighed and stared at her reflection in the mirror while letting her now brown hair, fall in gentle tresses.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor make any money off these writings.

Apologies for the wait! This is the longest chapter to date and is packed with 2 sex scenes to gain your forgiveness (well, more like one and a half. I'm afraid, sex scenes are not my forte, that honor belongs to Nerys.) Thanks to everyone who reviewed and will review!

* * *

It was when Hermione was laying on the plane's transfigured loveseat kissing the Dark Lord like her life depended on it, that she realized just how risky it was to be acting so intimately when there was another person ten feet away in the cockpit with only a screen covered by a taffeta emerald curtain separating them. Hermione retracted her tongue from his mouth and broke the kiss as she turned to look at the curtain separating them from the cockpit and the pilot. She was feeling very paranoid at the moment, what if he saw them and told_? Well, that's not very rational, Hermione_, she thought, _he's probably a Death Eater, and a somewhat trusted one since he gets to fly the plane his highness _(who was stimulating her neck with shameless intensity) _boards._

"Tom!" she hissed as she grabbed onto her underwear which he had pulled down to her knees. "The pilot!"

"He can't hear anything, this cabin is soundproof," he hissed sounding out of breath.

"Well, what if he walks in?" she pressed on.

"And leave the plane flying itself? Honestly, Hermione? Did you leave your brain in France?" He snarled and grabbed the sides of her head so as to prevent her from turning away and breaking their heated kiss. Hermione closed her eyes and tried to give into the kiss; however, her mind which had previously been filled with paranoia at the prospect of the pilot walking in on them, had now moved onto a touchier subject: Ron. She had begun to think about him last night after she wrote to him; she felt awful about what she had done, and what she was currently doing. Breaking it off with the Dark Lord would be the best way to go about things, but that was impossible because Hermione was sure as hell he wouldn't let her go. Also, and this was something Hermione tried to ignore, she knew she would miss him, miss the sex, and above all, the intellectual stimulation only He was capable of giving her.

"What's wrong with you?" he said, suddenly breaking their kiss.

"What do you mean?" Hermione replied unfazed.

"You're like a corpse, you're not even kissing me back."

Hermione looked away from him and shook her head. However, he snapped her head back so that she was looking up at him. "I'm just not in the mood," she said somewhat darkly, he had turned her head a tad roughly.

"Just like last night," he said accusatorily.

Hermione sighed. "I'm just…" she paused, her mouth somewhat open. "I'm cheating on Ron, and I feel horrible, and then Harry and Dumbledore and the rest of the Order come in, and that makes me feel even worse, but then I can't break it off with you because you wouldn't accept that, and you'd end up blackmailing me into being with you –" Hermione noticed with a grimace that He actually smiled at that. "But at the same time, I can't be with you because I can't betray my people. . . it's just so complicated, I don't know what to do anymore." She finished rather meekly as she looked past him and out the window at the fast passing clouds.

There was a few minutes' silence between the two, the only noise coming from the plane's engine.

"Well, you sure make yourself out as the victim quite nicely," he said with a sneer. "It's convenient how you forget to mention your obvious attraction to me, still in denial I see, but that is of no matter," he said, raising his voice as Hermione sought to counter his statement. "I'll make it easy for you, _Imperio."_

Hermione opened her mouth to protest when she felt the Imperius curse take charge of her body; however, almost as soon as the eerie calmness entered her body, it left. Hermione gasped as the curse shot from her out to him who immediately fell to the side to avoid getting hit, and finally hitting the wall of the plane. It left a burn mark on the wooden paneling.

"The vow," she muttered.

"I wasn't hurting you," he snapped.

"You were about to!" Hermione countered, "you were going to rape me!"

"Rape you? Oh right! Potter's little defenseless mudblood is going to get raped by the big bad Dark Lord! She hasn't been cheating on her fiancé this past weekend oh no, she got raped!"

"I told you no, and you put the Imperius curse on me, and that is rape!"

Hermione stood up from the couch and walked off to the last seat before the bathroom. She took a seat, hugged her legs to her chest and stared out the window. She heard him call out for the copilot and order a drink. Hermione ignored the latter as he went past her and towards the bar to fix the drink. Then, she saw Him get up, Hermione purposely turned away so she was looking out the window as he passed. He said nothing, and she heard him going into the restroom. Hermione closed her eyes, she didn't want to think about anything right now; she just wanted to go home. She was beyond tired of him, of having to constantly scrutinize his behavior for signs of manipulation or bad intentions, of having to hide her feelings and mind from him. She wanted to go home, she wanted to be amongst good people, people that loved her, people she didn't have to tread carefully around.

* * *

Hermione breathed deep as they Apparated outside Grimmauld Place, the wooden door a mere feet away from them. She threw Him a glance.

"Shouldn't you let Dumbledore know so he can let us in?"

He shook his head, a smile coming over his face. He leaned forward and knocked before turning to Hermione with a smirk.

"Why ruin a perfectly good situation like this? You should hide, that way they only see me. . . ." His red eyes glittered with glee.

"How do you know Dumbledore didn't already tell them?" Hermione said condescendingly. "You might be getting excited for nothing."

"He didn't tell them," he said solemnly.

Hermione turned to him, he sounded too certain for her liking. "What do you mean?"

His smile grew so that his face now resembled a white jack o' lantern with serpentine features.

"We were supposed to meet Dumbledore at his office."

Hermione's jaw slacked, and her breath hitched as the word 'betrayal' flashed through her mind. Her whole system went into alert mode as she whipped out her wand, and pointed it at him.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" he said sounding amused. Hermione was taken slightly back by his relaxed posture; however, before she had time to react, the door was opened by Molly Weasley who let out a small cry at seeing him; however, when her eyes landed on Hermione who was still in an aggressive stance with her wand drawn, Molly panicked.

"Hermione, keep him at bay, I'll get Dumbledore!"

Mrs. Weasley stumbled back in while screeching for her husband.

"Put your wand down, _Weasley_, you already killed my fun." He glared at her.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione snapped, she was so confused and frustrated, she felt like crying.

"Put your wand down, you know I can't hurt you or anyone in there," he said forcefully while taking steps towards her. Hermione backed away, but kept her wand up.

"Why did we come here if we were supposed to go to Dumbledore's office, then?"

"Because I wanted to rile up the sheep, keep them on their toes. . . I wish I could do something, but because of that stupid vow I can't."

"Hermione! Hermione! Get in here." Hermione raised a hand to silence Lupin's frantic cries from the newly opened front door. She went up to the Dark Lord staring him straight in his red eyes.

"You mean to tell me that this was all a joke?"

"I don't play jokes, Ms. Granger," he replied while crossing his arms. He smirked, and his eyes glittered as he said this. Hermione stared at him in silence as her anger started spilling out of the glass of her emotions; she knew he was teasing her. She bit her bottom lip and took in a breath.

"This might be a violation of the vow, but right now I really don't care for the consequences as I am sure they will be worth it."

He narrowed his eyes, and just as he was about to part his lips to respond, she slapped him with all her strength. Hermione had never felt so angry, her cheeks were flushed as she gave Him one last glare and stormed past the silent Order members and up the stairs of Grimmauld Place.

Voldemort was so surprised by her audacity, that he neither said nor did anything as she stormed up the creaking stairs of the old house. His cheek was still burning, and his entire face seemed warmer than usual. How dare she make a mockery of him in front of The Order? Oh, he was too angry for words; yet at the same time, he wanted to smile for Hermione had helped him in his plan. Ignoring the indignant cries from The Order members, he waved his hands, palms out in a parting motion causing the people around him to fall back and out of his way.

"TELL DUMBLEDORE HE HAS ONE MINUTE TO GET HERE OR I START LOOKING FOR LOOPHOLES IN THE VOW!"

The Order members stared unmoving at the Dark Lord's retreating back as he headed towards the sitting room; they heard the swoosh of the seat cushion as he sat down. "And get me tea!" he shrieked.

Harry threw Ginny a glance who wrapped her arms tighter around herself and sighed.

"I'll floo Dumbledore," Kingsley said quietly. They watched as he slinked towards the back room.

"Should we just wait here until Dumbledore comes?" Molly asked looking up at her husband.

"The more we stay outta his way, the better. . . " Mundungus muttered.

Harry shook his head and spoke up. "If we do that we give him power, he gets his power from intimidation. This is our house, our headquarters, and if he is going to set foot here, it will be under our terms. He can't hurt us, remember?"

"I heard that, Harry. . ." Voldemort drawled. "Now where is my tea before I get up and start finding a way to disprove your last statement . . . ."

Molly visibly recoiled into Arthur's arms and silently moaned.

"Mom, it's okay, like Harry said, He can't hurt us," Ginny whispered.

"I can't believe Dumbledore would allow Him to come here, I bet you we are not allowed at His headquarters," Harry mumbled angrily.

"Do you think he wants milk in his tea?" Luna asked, she was spending the day with Ginny and had been quiet throughout the whole scene.

"I don't think that's something you should be bothering with right now. . ." Ginny said, Harry could tell she was trying to keep the sarcasm and condescending notes out of her voice.

"Well, what if he wants low-fat milk? I mean everyone knows that it is bad for you because the cows are given essence of Mulberry tea to keep their milk fat free . . .but then again, normal milk is filled with pesticides and hormones which lead to cancer; so really, nowadays the only milk that is safe to drink is organic."

An uncomfortable silence followed Luna's little speech. Even, Mrs. Weasley had stopped crying.

"But you don't have organic milk," Luna went on, oblivious to Ginny's face which was red from held back laughter. "So, I suppose he's not going to be able to have any milk. . . ."

Luna sighed and played with the pendant on her necklace.

"Who gave her that book on corporations and the food industry?"

"I thought it was harmless," Lupin said.

Harry sighed and shook his head.

"WHERE'S MY TEA AND WHERE'S DUMBLEDORE?"

"Crap," Harry said and exchanged a glance with Ginny. "Can you see what's going on with Kingsley?"

"I'll go fix him the tea," Molly said, her voice breaking.

"No, it's okay, I'll go," Harry said quickly. He felt sorry for her, she was scared and shaking.

"Tell him about the milk, if he asks for some," Luna told Harry as he began heading towards the kitchen.

"You tell him," Harry said brusquely, he already had to deal with the Order members being incapacitated by fear of the Dark Lord; he wasn't going to add the problems in Luna's world to his burden.

"Okay."

Instantly there were several loud hisses. "Luna!"

Harry turned around and saw Luna was not in the foyer anymore. His face fell. "Oh you've got to be kidding me . . . ."

"Where's Dumbledore? Why isn't he coming?" Molly hissed hysterically. "Where's Ginny? Where's my Ginny?"

"She went upstairs to check up on Kingsley,she's fine," Harry said quickly as Molly's breathing slowed down a bit, and she buried her face in her husband's robes.

"Well, at least Luna will keep Him entertained," Tonks muttered darkly.

* * *

When Harry walked into the sitting room, carrying the Dark Lord's tea, he was unsurprised to see Luna seated comfortably in the loveseat facing the armchair the Dark Lord had taken up while yapping away about Nargles.

"- and I named them after my friends at school; I tried to bring them home, but then I remembered that Nargles can only live in a mistletoe tree, and if you cut the branch off, it dies along with the Nargles, and I wouldn't want to do that… they're such harmless and interesting creatures."

"When's Dumbledore coming?" Voldemort snapped over Luna whose babble slowly died out as her large blue eyes settled on Harry.

"I don't know, I don't think Kingsley's been able to locate him at his office," Harry said tensely while staring down at the mug, he couldn't bring himself to look Voldemort in the eyes. Just when he was about to set the mug of tea on the small table next to the Dark Lord's armchair, the latter clucked his tongue and bent his arm at the elbow with swanlike elegance, his arm twisted as it went down to reveal the pasty forearm and outstretched fingers. Harry didn't need to look at the Dark Lord, to know that He was reveling in this minute display of power.

"Well, I never knew there would be a day when Harry Potter would be tending to my every whim." Slowly, a serpentine smile came over his face. "Why won't you look at me, Harry? Taking after house elves, are you?"

Harry glared up at him for the first time, his anger quickly reaching the boiling point.

Voldemort smiled and looked away and towards Luna. "Leave."

Harry was surprised to hear Luna get up and leave silently; he had never seen her follow an order like that. Then again, just because someone was strange didn't mean they were stupid.

"I'll check up on the floo again and owl Dumbledore, you'll have to wait here," Harry said with a tone of finality whilst backing away. The atmosphere in the room was so oppressively dark, it was making him have no idea what Dumbledore had been thinking of when he allowed the dark wizard to come into headquarters, maybe the headmaster was truly going senile.

"That's what the redhead and the African are for," Voldemort said rapidly, "stay."

"No."

"No?" Voldemort cocked his head as he said this. "Harry, you're hurting my feelings. After all, it's been a while since we talked."

"Shut up, just shut the fuck up," Harry said with clenched teeth, he had never thought he would feel as much hatred for a living being as he did in this moment.

"The nerve," Voldemort said quietly, his cold gaze locked on Harry's. Suddenly, he blinked and looked away with a small shrug. "Then again, I shouldn't be surprised. Insolence and cheek seem to be standard features in your generation, but of course I don't need to tell you that, you were there when your Mudblood decided to take liberties upon my person."

The incident at the door, which had stunned them at the time, but had quickly been forgotten and pushed back, was brought to the forefront again.

"I guess she's gotten very comfortable with me," the Dark Lord went on, "I had my suspicions before, of course, what with the photo of her staring dreamily at me during my birthday party, but now having her slap me in front of all of you? Well, that tells me that she's now so comfortable with me, she's certain I won't hurt her. . . ."

Voldemort turned his eyes onto Harry who had been quiet the entire time. "Don't you wish you could boast the same?"

Harry's jaw tightened as the mocking smirk he had learned to hate so much presented itself before him. He turned on his heel and stalked out, Voldemort's laughter following him.

* * *

Hermione was laying on the bed of what had been her and Ginny's room during the summers of her school years. Oh how she missed those years! Even though they were far from idyllic – trying to defeat a mass murderer does tend to put a damper on things – they had been better than their current times. This time; however, it was all on Hermione. She was the one that got involved in this precariously, dangerous situation and for what? So she could sate her curiosity and escape from the pointless bore her life had become?

Hermione didn't think she had ever made a bigger blunder. Sure, she'd been desperate before the Alliance: her life had become dull and repetitive; her wedding was on permanent hold; her fiancé had gone from likeable to unbearable as the years passed, and her job search had been hindered by Molly who filled Hermione's day with wedding preparations for a marriage which still had no date.

Hermione had hated them along with Molly's courses on home care and child rearing, but she loved her future mother-in-law who seemed to cling onto Ron and Hermione's wedding like a drowning man to a float: it had been her only light in their dark times.

In the depressing bore her life had become, Hermione had reverted to her books for comfort. She read and read; it got to a point where she was reading 8 books a day. Pretty soon the subjects ran out, and before long, Hermione found herself inspecting books on the Dark Arts. It was the forbidden fruit, the one drawer of knowledge she had never been allowed to open, but oh how it called her name! She had purchased books on the history of the Dark Arts along with a book listing all the known Dark Arts spells. She hid them under a loose floorboard in her and Ron's room and only read them after he would go to work. It was a special thrill that she enjoyed, the thrill of reading and possessing the forbidden.

Inevitably, she had come across His name almost four times each page. The man truly seemed to epitomize the arts. Both authors that she read tried to devote a section to him, but they had such vague knowledge of the Dark Lord, that one of the authors actually ventured to say that he was a 'bogey man' created by the ministry to bring the Dark Arts a bad name. Of course, Hermione had known differently, even back then. However, she'd become somewhat obsessed with the man.

She began wondering what he was really like as a person, from what Harry had told her she'd created a basic picture of him, but it felt too flat. After all, a real person couldn't torture and plot all day, there had to be more to him. When Hermione finished the book on Dark Arts spells, she'd felt as though she'd been left at her peak with no release. The curses and spells the book had spoken of made her imagination run wild with positive uses; oh it was a wonderland for her! A place seemingly untouched by anyone apart from Him. In many instances of spells, the author had hinted that Voldemort had delved deeper into the subject, he would say things like "_while the Fumidre curse's known use is for spreading a sense of fear and discomfort, there have been instances where experienced practitioners used the curse, or a variant thereof, to spread curses, like Avada Kedavra, which are normally meant for a single target, to multiple targets."_

It was quite clear the author had limited knowledge of the Dark Arts, he had even said it a number of times. However, this was considered to be an authoritative book on the Dark side of magic. The author had explained that he hadn't delved too much in the Dark Arts because he'd wished to keep himself clean. He compared it to studying a live volcano, you can't go in the crater for fear of being killed; so you must walk around it and try to learn as much as possible from afar.

That was why when Dumbledore came to them that evening and announced that the Alliance would be going forth and a messenger would be needed, Hermione had jumped at the chance. Here was her chance to both get away from her claustrophobic, dull life and get to study her volcano from the caldera.

Now; however, Hermione knew it had been a mistake. She had been stupid for thinking that her fascination with him wouldn't develop into a romantic attraction, and now she was completely at a loss. She had no idea what to do, she knew she had to get away from him, but she couldn't leave her mission like that because it could jeopardize the Alliance. Not to mention that, as much as Hermione hated to admit it, she would miss him. He had become a part of her life, no matter how cold and hurtful and horrible he was to her, she still felt that strong attraction to him, and his ticks and sociopathic tendencies had actually, sickeningly enough, become endearing to her.

Hermione knew she'd gone too far by slapping him, not because of His reaction to it, but what the Order members present would think. She could make the argument that since magic wasn't allowed to cause harm to members of the other side, she had resorted to physical means. However, that technicality had been taken care of by Dumbledore after the fistfight that broke out between Death Eaters and Order members during the Christmas party. Thus, physical nor magical harm was allowed between the two sides, but for some reason (and Hermione had an inkling as to what that may be), she had been able to slap him.

She was sure the Order members wouldn't be able to figure it out, but Hermione was sure it had to do with her motives and their relationship. The vow prevented an Order member from harming a Death Eater or the Dark Lord, but she hadn't hit him as an Order member; she'd hit him as Hermione. Voldemort's simple betrayal charade had enraged Hermione who had taken it as a betrayal of herself; not the Order. In other words, it had been personal, and that was a territory not covered by any of the vows that were applied.

* * *

About ten minutes had passed in the downstairs living room, and so far Voldemort was having a marvelous time. He was still sitting in the burgundy armchair with his hands on his lap. The mug of tea lay half filled on the side table. He hated mugs, they were large and bulky and common. He liked cups, porcelain tea cups, and if he had had one it would've been nestled in his lap. He could get a clear view of the kitchen; after Potter, no one had ventured in. However, he was sure that someone would have to come in sooner or later, and then his game would resume. Soon enough, the Weasley matron ventured in; Voldemort was surprised and happy to see that she was by herself. Oh she was scared, scared out of her mind it was clear, and it made him want to smile. He brought his hand up to his lips as he leaned his head back slightly and surveyed her. In glee, he began biting the nail on his pinkie, his smile half hidden by his slim pinkie finger. She was moving pots around and filling them with water at the faucet, her shoulders and back were contracted, and her hands were shaking slightly. Her brow was furrowed and her jaw held very tightly. She knew he was watching her, and it was wreaking havoc upon her nerves.

The Dark Lord knew he had to act fast, the woman was rushing everything to get out of the kitchen as soon as possible, and he couldn't waste such a good opportunity.

"Have you heard from Dumbledore, yet?" he said pleasantly, his hand went to hold his chin as he rested his elbow on the arm of the chair.

"No," Molly said, her voices strained. It was clear she was attempting to sound strong, but failing miserably.

"Hmm," he said silently, once more resuming his chewing on his nail. "How inconsiderate of him. . . not so much for me as for you, I'm a big boy after all, I can take care of myself, but leaving his hatchlings with the big bad wolf? Not very motherly of him . . . right?"

"I'm sure there's a good explanation for it," Molly said, she was chopping onions now, but still refused to look at him.

"There better be," Voldemort went on lowly, "after all, your mental health is being compromised. You are terrified, I can feel it and why wouldn't you be. Here is the man that has murdered, directly and indirectly, hundreds if not thousands . . . the same man that hurt and almost got your only daughter killed . . . the reason why your son Percy still doesn't talk to you . . . and the same reason why Fabian and Gideon never got to know your children nor have any of their own . . . and that is the greatest tragedy, right, Molly? To not have a family?" He left off, and watched Molly who had put the knife down and was hunched over the table, her shoulders dropping in a defeated and exhausted stance. "So yes, I would expect him to have a very good reason for abandoning you in a time of need like this . . . ."

The room had gone very silent, and then Molly broke into silent sobs, the knife was still in her hand. Suddenly, she clutched it with a vengeance and threw it against the corner. Voldemort watched her turn around and go out the back entrance of the kitchen in a slow run. "Arthur! Arthur!" she shrieked in between sobs.

The Dark Lord chuckled and got the mug from the side table while getting up. He walked into the small, vacated kitchen and set the mug on the table.

"Accio tea cup," he mumbled; sure enough, a white tea cup with a black and gold rimmed border zoomed towards him from the upper cabinet. He caught it, placed the old tea bag from the mug in it and filled it with hot water from the kettle. Holding the cup with his right and the plate with his left, he waltzed back into the living room and finally into his armchair. Oh, how much better the tea tasted in a porcelain cup!

* * *

Harry's nails were digging into his hands as he watched a sobbing Molly press herself into her husband's embrace.

"A- and then he. . . just went on about where Dum- Dumbledore was," Molly said in a nasal and high-pitched voice, "and how he had left us when we most needed him!" she began crying again.

"Mrs. Weasley, forget it," Harry said urgently, "he is playing mind games with you, trying to get you to turn against Dumbledore . . .you have to ignore him."

"But where is Dumbledore?" Molly hissed in a panic, her eyes red and glossy with tears. "He has never not answered our call like this!"

"Maybe something happened to him," Lupin muttered, his brow furrowed.

"No," Molly said in between sniffles, "his clock says he's at Hogwarts . . . ."

"Well then why isn't he answering the floo?" Arthur muttered.

"Exactly," Molly said, "how could he just leave us like this? With him?"

"They were never supposed to come here," Harry intervened, "they were supposed to meet up with Dumbledore at Hogwarts, in his office . . . it was Voldemort who decided to show up here."

There was silence. "Someone should go to Hogwarts then, and look for Dumbledore."

All eyes landed on Kingsley.

"You're the only one that's not considered a fugitive by the ministry," Remus said.

"I know," Kingsley said, "I'll be back soon; you all take care."

The Auror turned away from the huddled mob and went up the stairs to floo from upstairs.

"Has Hermione not come down?" Harry asked suddenly.

Molly, Arthur and Ginny shook their heads.

"We haven't seen her since . . . we were at the door. . . ."

This caused Harry's mind to go back to the conversation he'd had with Voldemort. He knew the Dark Lord was trying to hint at something, and Harry was aware of what that was, but he was determined to ignore it. After all, it was obvious that Voldemort wanted to tear them apart by having them turn against each other. Yes, it was Voldemort being his manipulative and bastardly self . . . first him; then Mrs. Weasley . . . no, Voldemort had to be ignored.

_But he did have a point about Hermione becoming comfortable around him_, the voice in his head went on, _after all, no one in the world would dare get near the Dark Lord, much less slap him._ Well, Hermione had to have some level of comfort with him, Harry reasoned, she's been living with him for a few months. _But how much comfort has she acquired? _His subconscious offered and left off. Harry swallowed at this question when he felt himself start to wonder the same thing. He looked up at the stairs, almost as if waiting for the girl in question to come down the stairs.

_Then there was the picture in the newspaper, her face showed a little too much emotion towards the Dark Lord . . . and then at the Christmas Party when Hermione went off with Voldemort to talk, and she kept laughing. . . then how manipulative Hermione had been at times, especially whenever Tonks had been involved._

Harry stopped himself and shook his head to clear his mind of the insidious thoughts. No, how dare he even think Hermione would betray them; she was too good and sweet. He had known her for around 10 years now, and he wasn't about to come up with reasons to distrust her. He did; however, fear Voldemort and the influence he might be exacting on her. Hermione was a strong girl, Harry knew that and was proud of her because of that, but she wasn't unbreakable. Her morality and good heart caused her to be quite fragile under her armor of knowledge and stubborness. _Voldemort's been here for less than an hour, and he's already got us feeling mistrustful towards each other, imagine what harm he could cause to Hermione who spends day and night in his company._

It was then that Harry decided to demand to Dumbledore that he get Hermione off the mission, he wasn't about to lose his friend. No, he would not lose Hermione.

* * *

"Kingsley, what brings you here?"

Dumbledore stood up from his desk as he said this.

"Albus, we've been calling you for the past 40 minutes. Where have you been? Why aren't you answering the floo?"

Dumbledore frowned and glanced at the fireplace from where the flames crackled merrily and innocently.

"I didn't receive your summons."

"You need to come to headquarters, You-Know-Who is there," Kingsley said solemnly.

"He was supposed to meet me here with Hermione," the headmaster went on.

"Well, he's at Grimmauld Place. We should go, Albus, everyone is scared out of their minds."

The headmaster nodded, the disturbed and pensive look remained on his face as he took Kingsley and did a side-along apparition with him.

"Albus!" Molly cried out in relief, "oh thank Merlin!"

Dumbledore gave them all a small but reassuring smile. "Where is he?"

A few people pointed to the sitting room, Dumbledore gave the sitting room a glance before going up the stairs.

The Order members watched him go up, their faces filled with surprise. They remained in the foyer for the next few minutes, they all felt comforted to have the headmaster in the house; however, his disappearance was starting to worry some. Then, they saw the headmaster coming down the stairs with Bellatrix who had taken to locking herself in her room and only coming out for meetings. Dumbledore and Bellatrix swept past the small group who followed him with caution as they entered the sitting room.

"Tom."

The Dark Lord smiled pleasantly. "Dumbledore! What a pleasure. . . ." He daintily set his cup on the small table and reclined in the armchair.

"I need you to come upstairs with me, Tom."

"For the umpteenth time, Albus, I am flattered by your interest in me, but I am unable to reciprocate."

"Tom, I know what you did to the Floo," Albus said evenly, he peered at Voldemort from over his glasses.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Dumbledore, " Voldemort said, "I've been down here the whole time. Besides, because of the vow I can't do anything to harm you, remember?"

"You had Bellatrix cast repetitive scourging charms at the fireplace which _you_ knew would interfere with their connectivity, but she didn't, and because she wasn't knowingly causing harm, the spells weren't blocked by the vow."

"Are you serious?" Harry snapped; he looked from Dumbledore to Voldemort, face red with anger.

Voldemort said nothing; he was too busy staring Bellatrix down. The poor woman was hugging herself and shaking like a scared kitten cornered by a tiger. Finally, his eyes snapped off his follower, and the Dark Lord lifted himself off the armchair with gentle elegance. At that moment, Bellatrix fell down on her knees and started sobbing.

"My lord! My lord, forgive me! I was weak; I wasn't able to occlude him, please don't hate me, my lord!"

"Shut it," Voldemort hissed while giving her a downward glance and stepping over her, his eyes once more on Dumbledore. He went up to the headmaster until there were but a few inches of space between their faces; at which time, a smile came over the Dark Lord's serpentine visage. "What can I say? I guess I like to keep your lot on their toes. . . ." Then, Voldemort turned abruptly and strode through the wall of Order members who quickly jumped out of his way. Instantly, a flurry of comments and hisses broke out as Order members vented their frustrations to Dumbledore.

"Tom! You can't keep doing things like these!"

Voldemort, who had been going up the stairs, stopped and looked down at Dumbledore and the Order who were at the foyer. "Oh?"

"We'll break the Alliance off, Tom, and we'll go to the Ministry with the information we've acquired from you."

Voldemort smiled and leaned forward, laying his forearms over the stairs' wooden railing. "And that would be?"

"Whatever Ms. Granger has learned."

"That is not going to happen, Albus, you see we have grown very close over the past few months," Voldemort said quietly, but with glee. "She couldn't live with herself if she betrayed me like that. . . ."

"What are you implying?" Harry snapped as he pushed past the headmaster and the group. "You said that to me, too."

"That is for you to infer," Voldemort replied briefly before beginning to head up the stairs again.

"Tom, you can't go up there!"

The headmaster's robes rustled around his now brandished wand, which Voldemort knocked out of his hand with a swish of his hand. "Becoming reckless now are we? Don't forget you can't hurt me because of your vow."

"I can go around it if I feel that you are jeopardizing my or my associates' wellbeing," Dumbledore said loudly, his voice remained even as always, but a slightly higher pitch let Voldemort know that Albus was worried about his erratic behavior.

"Well then I must tell you that I don't intend on harming, Ms. Granger. I simply wish to have a word with her and bring her down so that we may relay our activities this past week. So if you'd excuse me," Voldemort smirked and ended his discourse with an obnoxious tone whilst turning around once more and finishing his climb up the staircase.

* * *

Hermione was laying on her bed with her eyes closed. All the stress had brought on a headache that she was trying to sleep away; however, her hopes were dashed by a knock on the door. Without waiting for an answer, the door swung open and the bane of her existence walked into the room. Hermione gave him a slight glare and laid back down while closing her eyes. She felt him sit on the bed next to her face, and his fingers trail along her cheek and her hair.

"Are you done pouting?" he asked.

"Why did you do that?" Hermione asked while opening her eyes and looking up at him. "Was it really necessary?"

"I wouldn't have done it if I'd known it would upset you so much," Voldemort mumbled, his fingers still running over the side of her face. Hermione narrowed her eyes and was about to protest, but found that she had no argument that would sound even halfway credible. "Denial is never a good state to be in, Hermione, it exposes your weaknesses."

"Stop reading my mind," she mumbled while sitting up and leaning back against the headboard.

"I wasn't reading your mind," he replied while he moved closer to her. "You wanted to refute my statement about my jest upsetting you, but found no way to do it. It is very obvious to me why." He smiled. " I do wish you would snap out of it, though . . . you've been very moody the past couple of weeks. I can't even remember the last time I saw you smile."

Hermione placed her hands on his forearms as his hands tightened around her waist. "Tom. . .stop it, here it is too risky. . . ."

"Give me a smile, and I'll think about it," he said while nibbling on her neck, Hermione tried to stop him as his hand snuck under her top and bra and stared squeezing her breast.

"I can't do this, I honestly can't do this," Hermione said trying to keep her head over the waters of lust. "We are at headquarters, my friends could come up and see us, and then they would tell Ron, and he would break it off with me, and then the ministry would put a warrant out for my arrest, and I would have to flee the country, and –!"

Hermione was near hysterics as this outcome played out in her mind. However, the Dark Lord had other plans and instead pulled her down onto the mattress before climbing on top of her and pinning her hands over her head with one of his and covering her protesting mouth with his other hand.

"There is a time and a place to show off your analytical skills, but right now is not it." Hermione quieted down and stared up at him, her eyes filled with turbulent emotions. "You have to let go sometimes, Hermione, take a risk, break a rule . . . it won't kill you.

He removed his hands off hers, but remained reclined on top of her.

Hermione didn't try to escape or push him off. Instead, she was staring at the door. Her eyes were there briefly before flickering back onto his, and then back at the door; almost as if checking to see if the coast was clear.

She sniffed and looked back at him. "Fuck this."

Finally, Hermione capitulated to her lust and brought him down over her lips. She closed her eyes and went along with the movements of their lips and hands; his hands were running under her bra and over her aroused breasts. Hermione moaned and disappeared his shirt just as he did the same. Their kiss intensified as the amount of naked skin increased and caused the lust in the room to intoxicate its inhabitants. Hermione grabbed onto his biceps and rocked him back into a sitting position, so that she was straddling him.

* * *

At the other side of the door, Ginny Weasley pulled back and dropped the extendable ear she'd been using. She began taking many steps back until she backed up against the wall in a state of shock. She couldn't have heard what she thought she heard. . . no it had to be a dream, a very very bad dream. . . a nightmare. Ginny actually pinched herself to make sure, but when she didn't wake up, a cold panic took over her.

"Oh Merlin. . . oh Merlin . . . oh Merlin," she moaned quickly as her mind tried to wrap itself around the fact that Hermione was in the room having sex with the Dark Lord. Ginny swallowed and bent down to pick up the end of the tube leading to the extendable ear; she gingerly placed it back in her own ear and walked back to the door where she slipped the listening device, she had to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

Ginny heard distinctive moans and the creaking of the bed. "Ah, ah, oh, Tom!"

The redhead dropped the tube from her ear canal at her sister-in-law's passionate outburst.

_That fucking whore, _Ginny thought as her previous shock was replaced by seething anger. _So that's what He was hinting at, and what Tonks suspected, and the picture in the Daily Prophet which Hermione had explained away! Come to think of it that was probably the reason why Hermione hadn't even made an effort to get out of the Alliance. That fucking, fucking slut. . . and in my room, too!_

Ginny fought the urge to knock down the door and tear Hermione's hair out, how dare she, the two-faced whore! Ginny felt her face reddening with bottled up anger, she was so angry, she didn't know what to do. She didn't want to keep this to herself, but at the same time she didn't think it wise to run down and inform everyone of the room's occupants' activities. She might've been seething, but she wasn't a raging lunatic with a death wish.

Oh, but she had to go downstairs and let the other Order members know what was going on. What could she say? She couldn't tell them the truth, that much was for sure. But what else could she say that would sound believable and would keep the Order members from coming up? Ginny cursed the two people in the room for putting her in such a spot. She wanted to tell everyone downstairs, but she couldn't for fear of incurring the Dark Lord's wrath.

Ginny went into the bathroom and withdrew a mirror from her pocket. She ran her finger over its surface in a pattern and then whispered, "Draco."

The mirror's surface reflected her face for a few seconds before blurring and turning into the blond's visage.

"Hey, what's going on?" He asked and then added, "are you alright?"

Ginny ran her hand through her hair and threw her head slightly back before hissing in a slightly shaky voice.

"Draco, I don't know what to do. I just found out Hermione and the Dark Lord are having an affair. They're going at it right now as we speak."

To her surprise, Draco didn't seem as surprised.

"Yeah, we figured that much . . . ."

"What do you mean?" Ginny hissed as she bent forward towards the mirror in her hand and placed her other hand on her hip. "Why didn't you tell me if you knew?"

Draco widened his eyes. "I didn't know, it was just talk going around. No one knew for sure. I mean we figured since they were spending almost every waking minute together, and I know that she is supposed to keep an eye on him for the Alliance, but does she have to eat her meals with him alone and go on trips with him?"

"She what?"

"Okay, forget I said that," Draco mumbled.

"You knew she was cheating on my brother, and you never told me?" Ginny hissed rather loudly.

"For the last time, I didn't know!" Draco snapped, "I'd only heard the rumors and keep your voice down, what if the Dark Lord hears you?"

"Oh, believe me, a hurricane could pass through this house, and they wouldn't miss a beat," Ginny said sarcastically.

Malfoy sniffed humorously at this. "They're going at it like that, huh?"

"Draco!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," he said quickly at a glaring Ginny. "Well, you can't tell anyone."

"I figured that much," Ginny said looking frustrated, "but my parents and everyone else is downstairs waiting for me to tell them what Hermione and the Dark Lord are doing; The Order thinks they're talking, and they're getting worried because it's taking so long; they'll probably expect me to come down with Hermione and Him."

"Oh. . ." Draco said darkly, his brow furrowed, "well, tell them that they will come down soon, and that they are talking or reading . . ." he trailed off looking worried.

"See? I have no idea what to tell them that would sound even halfway believable and wouldn't cause my parents and everyone else to come up here and walk in on them!" Ginny paused and took in a deep breath as she pushed her hair back from her face. "To tell you the truth, I think I would rather enjoy seeing Hermione's face when her little affair is found out. It would serve her right, that disgusting whore!"

"You absolutely cannot do that," Draco said, "unless you want the Dark Lord to skin me alive, you have to keep your mouth shut and play along with it."

Ginny moaned silently and closed her eyes. "Oh, why did I have to come up? Why couldn't it have been someone else? How am I supposed to act around her now? How am I supposed to look at my brother in the eye?"

"It's going to be difficult, I know, but you'll have to make do," Draco said gently and with a reassuring smile which Ginny returned.

"I miss you, when can I see you? I need to see you, especially with all this . . . ."

"We can meet tonight," he said, "my parents are going out. I'll come get you at the playground at 8."

Ginny smiled. "Okay, but what am I supposed to do now?"

All of a sudden, Ginny fell quiet and turned to look behind her at the closed bathroom door; she could've sworn she heard the bedroom door opening. Could they possible be done? Could she have been that lucky?

"I think that's them, I'll see you tonight," Ginny said breathlessly while giving the mirror a swipe with her finger and pocketing it once more. She took out the extendable ear and slipped it under the door, she could hear their footsteps at the very end of the corridor almost at the staircase. Stuffing the ear back in her pocket, Ginny went out and pretended to have just come out of the small meeting room as she came up behind Hermione and Voldemort who turned at her footsteps.

"I was just looking for you," she said while attempting to sound offhand. "Everyone downstairs wanted to know what was taking you so long."

"We were comparing notes of the weeks' occurrences so we could report them accurately to Dumbledore," Hermione said.

Ginny turned to her. "Oh, okay." _You fucking, slimy, little, disgusting motherfucking -. _Ginny smiled. "Let's go down, then, everyone's waiting and getting worried." She tried to avoid the Dark Lord's gaze, which had been trying to lock onto hers since the beginning of the conversation; she pushed past them and began descending the stairs with them in tow. It was as she was going down the stairs, that Ginny felt his penetrating gaze on her and got the distinct impression that He knew.

"What have you been doing up there!" Ginny snapped her eyes onto her mother who looked ready to be admitted at the mental health ward at St. Mungo's.

Ginny opened her mouth instinctively, only to realize that she hadn't thought up an excuse.

"We were looking for this file; when Ginevra came in, she stayed to help us look," Voldemort interceded as they reached the landing and Ginny walked off to a side. She was glad that He had stepped in, but at the same time, nothing frightened her more, because that confirmed her suspicions that He knew that she knew.

"Ginny!"

Ginny was brought back from her turbulent thoughts by her parents who were looking at her.

"Ginny, is that true?" Arthur asked once more.

The redhead widened her eyes slightly while nodding. "Yeah, I'm sorry I should've come down and let you know, it was very selfish of me."

"Apparently, Hermione is so committed to the secrecy of the Alliance, that she hid the file so well that even she couldn't remember where it was." Dumbledore grabbed the file that Voldemort had pressed against his chest. "Shall we?"

Everyone watched as Dumbledore followed Hermione and the Dark Lord to the meeting room where they locked themselves in.

As soon as they were out of sight, everyone's gaze turned onto Ginny who tried to appear nonchalant even though inside she was groaning.

"Ginny, what was going on upstairs?" Molly asked with a slightly hysterical tone. She was still being clutched by her husband.

"You already heard," Ginny said curtly; she kept her distance from the group and looked at their foreheads since she couldn't look into their eyes.

"Ginny, what did he do to you?" Harry said coming forward and grabbing her by the arm.

"Nothing! He's under a vow for fuck's sake. How many times do you people need to be reminded?"

"He could find a loophole, Ginny, there is no way we would ever trust him to play by the rules," Remus said sternly, but calmly.

"Exactly," the redhead said, "he could, but he hasn't. So, let's drop it."

Ginny walked back up the stairs and towards her room. Her parents called out to her a few times, but she ignored them.

* * *

"Tom, what were you trying to achieve by doing what you did today?"

Hermione looked up at Voldemort to see what he would respond. She was starting to regret having had sex with him moments before since she was still mad at him for his little 'joke'.

"It was just a joke, Dumbledore, don't take it so seriously. Besides no one got hurt," Voldemort drawled.

"Nothing's ever a joke with you, Tom," Albus responded while surveying him over his glasses.

Voldemort raised a non-existent eyebrow a millimeter. "I've already told you my motives behind my actions, and I don't like to repeat myself nor waste time as we are now. So unless we move on to my report, I will call off the Alliance."

Dumbledore dropped his gaze for a few seconds and leaned back in his seat with a sigh. Hermione could tell he was tense and regretting the moment he decided to partner up with the Dark Lord.

"Hermione, you start," Voldemort said curtly while leaning back in his chair.

Hermione straightened up and opened up the file; she scanned the notes and then looked up.

"Since last we met, the Dark Lord and I have gone to Paris and received Minister Gagnon's word, per an unbreakable vow, that she will not join nor aide Scrimgeour in any way or through any means." Hermione paused to take a breath, just as Dumbledore nodded for her to continue. "In return, negative information will be dug up and given to her concerning Alphonse Burdine."

Hermione turned to Voldemort to see if he wanted to add something.

"And you will be in charge of that," He said, "you will then bring me what you have collected so that I can verify it and send it to Elizabeth."

"You're the one that has a file on all prominent people in our world," Dumbledore responded.

Voldemort smiled. "Which is why I will be verifying the information you collect to make sure it is correct before I send it off."

Dumbledore nodded. "Alright. So what else? What is in that file that you all were looking for this whole time?"

Hermione instantly looked down at the file and pretended to be flipping over pages. She hadn't expected Dumbledore to realize the tiny hole in their cover-up.

"Last week we forgot to tell you some information…" Voldemort drawled. "Find the information about the reporter."

Hermione panicked slightly; she didn't remember ever having written anything about a reporter, but he must know something she didn't if he was bringing it up, right? Flipping through the pages, she finally found a sheet of parchment written in his messy scroll. Hermione was so relieved that she smiled and gave it to Dumbledore to read. After a few silent seconds, the headmaster looked up with a slight frown; he gave a glance to Hermione.

"Ms. Granger and I have already agreed that nothing will be done about the incriminating picture of her on the paper. Besides, if you were to do something to this reporter, it would validate the story and hurt Hermione's image."

Now Hermione was interested; she raised herself up further in her seat and tried to read the sheet held loosely in Dumbledore's hand.

"I am not saying something is to be done now. I could care less about Granger's image," he said flippantly. Hermione wondered how he could sound so convincing when he lied. Was it practice or simply innate skill that granted him that ability? "I just thought you would like to know so that when you do decide to look after someone else's interests apart from yourselves, it would be easier for the both of you."

Dumbledore wrinkled his brow. "You have nerve sometimes, Tom . . ."

"Nerve for telling the truth? Yes, I suppose I do," Voldemort replied. "After all, you chose to sacrifice Ms. Granger's reputation for the subsistence and success of this Alliance of yours."

"This is for all of the Order, not for me," Dumbledore responded tersely.

Hermione looked away, she had been trying to forget Dumbledore's slight against her for a while now, but she still felt a tad resentful.

"Of course it is!" Voldemort said widening his eyes and spreading his hands, "just like my mission and goals are for my Death Eater's well-being!" He smirked and leaned forward. "Or at least that's what we tell them."

Hermione frowned.

"Tom! Stop spreading your venom against me!" Dumbledore snapped, "Harry told me what you said to him and Mrs. Weasley!"

"What was that?" Hermione asked.

"He had Bellatrix unknowingly block the floo; so that when Kingsley and the others tried to contact me about his presence, it wouldn't go through. Since your fellow Order members didn't know that, they started panicking, and Thomas, here, used this moment of weakness to make comments about how irresponsible and selfish I was for not responding to their urgent Floos."

Hermione's mouth was slightly agape as she stared at Voldemort in shock and disgust. "Are you kidding?"

"Oh please, Dumbledore, it's not like anyone got hurt and besides, you should be thanking me! Now you know that your sheep are as loyal as a pack of dogs!" the Dark Lord said dismissively while waving the headmaster off and standing up. "Hermione, we are going."

"I'm staying, I'll come later," she replied curtly while staring at Dumbledore.

Hermione felt Him tensing behind her.

"Hermione . . ."

"No, Voldemort!" she called out loudly while refusing to turn and acknowledge him. Hermione heard him sniff and inhale deeply while trying to keep his emotions in control.

"Fine!" he snapped and slammed the door shut so hard it shook in its hinges.

* * *

The corridor was dark and hauntingly lit as Hermione made her way down it and towards her room. She glanced around at the walls; it was strange that even though a majority of paintings were Muggle, she could still feel their eyes on her. The brunette wrapped her arms around her torso and dipped her head as she quickened her pace down the hall and towards her room. Dumbledore had been very suspicious that day, she shouldn't have stayed in the room alone with him . . . he had practically grilled her with question after question, he had even asked her straight out if her feelings for him had changed or if she had acted out on those feelings. Hermione had kept her Occlumency walls up the entire time and made Dumbledore think that she was doing so because she felt betrayed that he would not trust her. Overall, she had held up under his scrutiny, and it was only after Mrs. Weasley had nervously announced that dinner was ready, that the ordeal had finished. Ron had been there, he had been tired from work, but glad to see her. She'd had sex with him after, mainly to keep him from suspecting anything. After all, it had been a couple of weeks since they'd last had sex, and if she kept avoiding it, it might raise suspicion with him. Hermione hated to admit that she now saw sex as an obligation with her fiancé, and a furtive treat with the Dark Lord.

Finally, she arrived at her room; she opened the door and stopped at seeing Him sitting in the silk, antique Bergere chair next to the fireplace, a crystal glass held loosely in his hands. He glanced at Hermione when she entered and sipped from his glass of Absinthe while staring at her nearing form over the rim of the glass. He brought the glass down to rest on his open palms like a baby in a cradle.

"Sit."

"What for?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"To talk," he replied and motioned at the small Absinthe fountain he had placed on a Louis XV style table. "And to correctly sample your gift to me."

Hermione sat down in the matching Bergere chair facing his; she grabbed the free crystal glass on the tray and filled it up halfway with the lime-colored liquid.

"What do you want to talk about?" Hermione asked while sipping from her glass delicately, she savored the minty taste before swallowing it.

"You."

Hermione looked up. "Care to explain?"

He smirked and cocked his head slightly while sitting back in the plush, tufted chair. "Why is that you oppose me so?"

"Hmm. . . gee. . . I don't know." Hermione brought a finger to her chin while looking up with a fake look of wonder on her face. "Maybe because you oppose everything I stand for, have been trying to kill my best friend since he was born, and are trying to exterminate my demographic?"

"Yet, you still sleep with me," he affirmed, " that doesn't make much sense, now does it?"

Hermione was at a loss of words as he confronted her with the dilemma that had been eating at her for weeks now. "Just because someone has sex with someone doesn't mean they are serious about that person."

"Yes, _other_ people might be able to engage in sex for sex's sake, but not you. You are a good, _moral_ girl." He smiled mockingly. "In order for you to sleep with someone, you must have feelings for them, and I know that this is the case with me. However, while you have accepted this fact, you are still fighting it, and that is causing both you and I problems."

Hermione didn't like his analysis of her feelings, it was too accurate. She sipped deeply to ease her worries.

"Did you know that Ginevra knows about us?"

Hermione's hands went as cold as the water in her glass; she brought the vial down from her lips, which uttered a foreboding 'what'.

"Yes, she overheard us today."

Hermione's breath caught in her chest. "What? And why didn't you say anything? And why did she cover up for us then instead of letting everyone know?"

"Because I performed a memory charm on her," he said, "you didn't notice? I was right next to you when I did it . . . oh well, I guess you were still not down from the cloud I put you on . . . ." He chuckled.

Hermione sat back down. "So, that's why she went along with what you said about looking for the file? Because you inserted that memory in her mind?"

"Obviously," he replied.

Hermione breathed a mental sigh of relief, but she was still shaken.

"I shouldn't have done it, too," he said causing Hermione to look up with narrowed eyes. "You've been horrible to me . . . what with what happened on the plane and the night before -"

"For fuck's sake," Hermione said with a sigh, "I told you I wasn't in the mood for sex then; besides, I had sex with you today, didn't I?"

He waved her off. "Allow me to finish . . . you have been difficult and obnoxious –"

Hermione couldn't help herself, and she interrupted him again. "I thought you liked a challenge?"

"Yes," he said while setting his glass down on the table and standing up and going around to the back of his chair. "However, you need two to play that game."

Hermione wasn't sure about what he meant; so she kept quiet and eyed him warily as he began pacing.

"I have been very lenient with you; I am witnessing the effects of this on a daily basis . . . whether you are making slight against my person as you did in Paris when you mocked my strategy with Gagnon."

Hermione sniffed as a mild smile came over her face. "When I said you were whoring yourself for Dumbledore?"

"And when you saw it fit to disobey my instructions and wear an unapproved piece of jewelry."

"Which would be?"

He turned. "What you put in your pocket when I came to check up on you, and later put on at the dinner party."

"My ring?" Hermione said, she didn't think he had seen it. "Well, I am a Gryffindor . . ."

"Here, yes, but when you are in my presence, you are a reflection of me, and I do not take lightly to my image being tarnished in such a way," he replied heatedly. If he hadn't looked so angry, Hermione would've laughed. Instead, she swallowed it back and tried to appear solemn.

"Well, I'm sorry, I didn't know it would affect you this much."

"There were the incidents last night and on the plane –"

" I already told you I wasn't in the mood and –"

"And," he said speaking over her and raising his index finger while moving away from the floor-length windows and towards the back of his previously occupied chair. "That flamboyant display of insubordination today at your headquarters."

"You deserved it," Hermione said as she remembered her slap. She was not going to apologize for that, no way in hell. _He deserved it for scaring me into thinking he'd betrayed me. . . us, Hermione, us, the Order_, she added.

"I already said I was sorry," he said lightly, "I didn't think your feelings for me ran that deeply. Now that I know, I can promise you it will never happen again."

"I don't- "

"Hermione, you are not even fooling yourself," he snapped.

Hermione looked down at the legs of the Bergere chair the Lord had previously occupied in thought; she ran the tip of her finger around the rim of her now empty Absinthe glass. She saw his feet walking towards her and figured he was heading for the Absinthe bottle; however she was surprised when he waved his wand over her chair and made it stretch into a love seat. She looked up at him as he sat down next to her and brought one arm around her shoulders. Hermione turned away from him while He pulled her towards him.

"What do I have to do to convince you this is the way to go?" he muttered.

Hermione shook her head. "I won't join you. " She looked him in the eyes. "I will never be your Death Eater."

"I don't want you to be, " he replied swiftly while running the backs of his fingers over her collarbone. "You are not my subordinate, I think of you as a lump of coal with potential to become a diamond like I. I have already started polishing you . . . and I'm seeing results," he glanced down at her body to refer to her outfit.

"It's just a dress with red tights," she said offhandedly.

"Yes, but that's not easy to pull off. Before you would've worn them with a blouse and a skirt of different colors, which would've been disastrous. However, you are wearing them with a grey, houndstooth dress and a red cross tie."

"Well, you told me to wear the red cross tie with the red tights . . ." Hermione muttered.

"Exactly, you listen to me and you incorporate what I tell you into your daily life because you are a smart girl who knows to take an opportunity when she sees one, and I like that kind of people. I need that kind of people around me."

"I already told you I won't join you."

"And I already told you that wouldn't be necessary," he replied. "Let me show you some things . . ."

"Why would you teach me magic that I can later use against you?" Hermione asked with narrowed eyes.

"I'm not going to teach you anything advanced, without you pledging yourself to me first, of course. Only basic things that any intermediate to advanced wizard would have no trouble protecting themselves against."

"I'll have to sleep on it," she said silently. It sounded enticing, but she didn't want to make any decisions before analyzing all outcomes first.

"I wouldn't like you if you didn't." He smiled.

Hermione shook her head slightly and closed her eyes while throwing her head back. "I hate being this confused. . . ."

"Then stop over thinking things," he mumbled.

"I wouldn't be Hermione if I did," she said with a mental sigh. "I don't over think all the time, though . . . today I fucked you on impulse," she offered.

"And I would like to see more of that," he replied.

Hermione sniffed humorously while slapping his chest playfully. "You're horrible."

"You keep telling me that, and it is starting to hurt my self esteem. I will want to be compensated for that, naturally." He moved in towards her. Hermione allowed him to kiss her and closed her eyes as she focused on their current act. She especially liked how he pulled her head up by grabbing onto her hair. It didn't hurt, but it showed his dominance over her, and Hermione liked that about him. She was always the dominant and take charge one in life; so why not give up control during sex? Unfortunately with Ron that was never the case, which was probably why Hermione was so attracted to the Dark Lord. It just felt forbidden, like getting entry into a club reserved for a select few . . . .

Hermione pushed him down on the loveseat and extended her body over his as he began to undo her dress from behind. Hermione decided to help him out with his argyle sweater. Hermione felt a oil drop of desire going down into the pit of her stomach; she was still wet from her previous two unions that day; however, she was starting to get even more so as the last of her clothing was shed along with his.

"Oh, Tom," Hermione moaned as he sat up and pulled her up to her knees so that he could stimulate her breasts. Hermione pressed his head towards herself as he sucked and nibbled on her right nipple while squeezing and kneading her other breast. Hermione sat back down on her feet and kissed him frantically; he placed his hands on her butt cheeks and began squeezing as their kiss increased in passion. Hermione didn't want to make it fast; however, she felt as ready as she was ever going to be and judging by the hardness and length of his member currently in her hand, he was too. So she pushed him back down and went over him so that her wet organ was right over his upright one.

"Should I?" she teased with a grin.

"I'll make you if you don't," he growled, his chest heaving rapidly. To prove his point, he placed his hands on her hips.

Hermione smiled and brought her head down for a small, but lavish kiss which she broke off abruptly.

"I don't know, I mean you did piss me off earlier today . . ."

"Granger, don't you dare," he said and Hermione was amused to see the seriousness and slight frenzy in his expression. Hermione smiled once more, happy to have control over him at least this once. Slowly, she started withdrawing from him.

"Hermione, you back off now, and I will make it my life mission to kill everyone you have ever cared about."

"If you want me to fuck you, you shouldn't be saying things like that. It will only make me drag this out even more," Hermione replied innocently as she began running her finger over the head of his member, she traced the bubble of precum over it before giving him a squeeze.

"God damn, woman, just get to it," he said, sounding slightly breathless. She ignored him however and instead sat back against the arm of the loveseat and brought her legs up to her chest; however, she made sure to spread them slightly so that her red and puffed out organs stared at him like a burning sunset. She saw him watching her lustfully as her hand, which she had previously been using to stimulate him, was brought down to her core. Hermione rubbed the finger with his precum on it over herself while making sure to issue out a throaty moan that was sure to put him on the edge. Then she began stimulating herself while he watched, his gaze so heated that it made Hermione quiver and swallow in desire.

"Oh, Tom, it feels so good . . . too bad you won't be able to join me since you were so bad today."

Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed Hermione by the ankle before pulling her down and dragging her back towards him; she tried to grab onto the arm of the loveseat to drag herself back up and away from him, but he was faster than her and brought her arm to her side.

"That was a very good performance, I must say, but now that you are back at my mercy, what shall I do with you?"

"I've got one idea," she said staring him deep into his brown eyes.

"And why would I give you something you want when you've been acting so bad lately?" he muttered. Hermione grinned.

"Because you want it, too."

She took a hold of his erection as she said this and started pumping it, she felt him contract and bow his head slightly at the pleasurable sensations. Then, he took her mouth, and they kissed frantically and clumsily as the focus shifted off the foreplay and onto the consummation. Hermione moaned and spread her legs as he threw them around his hips. He entered her without breaking the kiss, and they moaned into each other's mouth as the pieces of the puzzle came together in one flawless stroke. Quickly, his strokes became more frequent and violent, and Hermione became more vocal when they finally broke the kiss and arranged themselves in a more comfortable position. Tom got off the loveseat and came to stand at its side as Hermione twisted herself so that she was laying before him. He entered her automatically and took a hold of her thighs to keep her steady while he thrust into her with increased strength and accuracy. Hermione threw her head back and closed her eyes as she writhed and gasped in pleasure. He was driving himself into her so hard, the sofa had begun to move backwards, and the Dark Lord actually had to stop and cast a quick grounding charm on it. It wasn't long after that that they came, her first, and him a few seconds after. As soon as it was done, Hermione pulled him down for another kissing session, but then they decided to move it to the bed. This lip-locking encounter led to another round of sex after which Hermione was exhausted. This was her fourth time having sex that day, after all… and with two different men! Ha, if only the girls in Gryffindor could see her now. . . the bookworm who didn't have a boyfriend until she was 14, now splitting her time between two men! Hermione smiled gleefully and took advantage of the fact that it was the aftermath of sex, to get close to the Dark Lord and cuddle up against him. He responded by putting an arm around her and burying his head in her hair. Soon after, though, she felt his head going away from her hair, and his fingers weaved themselves between her hairs and planted themselves on her scalp instead. Hermione sighed happily as it felt nice to have her head caressed; she was also slightly giddy that Voldemort was acting so nicely, he had never been this caring before . . . maybe he was warming up to her . . . .

"What shampoo have you been using?" he asked suddenly.

Hermione frowned. "What?"

"Your head is full of dandruff," he said as he continued parting her hair and examining her scalp, which Hermione realized, was what he had been doing the entire time. She moved away from him feeling stupid and embarrassed.

"You will change shampoo, go to Diagon Alley and buy some anti-dandruff shampoo. There is nothing less appealing than a woman with fake snow on her shoulders."

"Sure," Hermione said offhandedly, she had turned her back on him.

"You should be thanking me," he replied with a sniff, "Bellatrix had dandruff for a while, too, but I never bothered to tell her," he finished. "She also has that awful habit of wearing tight corsets that make her breasts look like they are about to jump out and attack you. She thinks I like it, but I couldn't hate it more . . . there's nothing appealing about something that presents itself so openly."

Hermione listened closely as he rambled on, he seemed to be thinking aloud more than talking to her, which was great for her because she had never seen him open up like this.

"Also, the hair . . . after Azkaban, she seemed to have completely forgotten the concept of a brush. The hair on her head was as bushy and tangled as the hair on her –"

"Okay, I'm cutting you off right there to tell you good night, because I really do not need to know that much," Hermione said quickly, she turned around and looked him in the eyes to get her point across.

"You're right, too much about me. Now you, tell me about Weasley, how is he?" he asked suddenly. Hermione widened her eyes and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not touching that with a twenty foot pole."

"Hmm. . ." he said while looking up at the canopy pensively, "he's that bad . . . ."

"No," Hermione said, "it's just that I am not going to discuss that, It would be too weird and just . . . eww."

He turned to her. "What about Potter?"

Hermione let out a small laugh while turning around and waving her hand towards the fireplace. "Okay, good night."

There was an uncomfortable silence, Hermione closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but she could feel him thinking next to her, and she just knew he would be popping a question at any moment.

"Have you had sex with Potter?" he asked silently.

"Why do you want to know?" she asked teasingly, she heard the faint echoes of jealousy under his forcibly calm tone.

"Because I want to know where you've been, or rather on who you've been."

Hermione smiled, she still had her back to him, and she could tell it was starting to bother him.

"Harry and I are very close, at one point I was closer to him than Ron," she let out.

"And by that you mean . . . ."

"Whatever you want it to mean."

He grabbed her arm and turned her over so she was on her back, and he was above her.

"Have you slept with him?"

Hermione smiled at his distressed state. It was cute to see how tormented he was by the thought of her being with others, especially his mortal enemy.

Hermione smiled warmly and placed her hand on his cheek while stroking his hair with her fingertips.

"No, Tom, I haven't done anything more that kissing him on the cheek." She watched as his features relaxed, and she allowed her self to bask in his good looks. She liked how messy his hair looked in bed and compared to daily life when it resembled a French garden, obsessively maintained and orderly. She also liked how he got a tint of rouge on his normally pallid cheeks.

"Such a beautiful, but deadly creature," she muttered pensively while running her fingers over his lips.

"Only to some," he muttered while kissing her hand.

"Indeed, to the fools who are so mesmerized by the beauty, that they throw their common sense out the window."

He smirked. "You're being a little cynical, don't you think?"

"No, I'm being realistic," she muttered.

"In your mind, but not in reality."

He silenced her with a kiss, and Hermione, not wanting to worry anymore about the choices she was making, gave into the kiss with a passion parallel to that of a drunk and their bottle of alcohol: salvation and damnation rolled into one.


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks to everyone who reviewed and waited patiently. Sorry this took so long, I was out of a computer for a week and out of town for another. I was going to make this chapter a little longer, but I figure it's long enough as it is, and it's been a while since I updated. So, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Nerys! She messaged me and kept asking me about this update, real good motivator she is. Also, special thanks to Armani Fan who gave me the idea for Voldemort visiting Hermione's parents.

* * *

"Hermione, you didn't bring new clothes?"

The brunette shook her head. "I didn't have time to go home. I was only at headquarters for dinner, and then I came here."

Hermione wasn't really paying attention to him as she was immersed in a book she had picked up from his library.

"I want you to get a dress."  
That made Hermione break her attention away from her precious book.

"What for?"

"Oh, I don't know," he said with a frown on his face, "for wearing, maybe?" He rolled his eyes.

"You know that's not what I meant," Hermione said solemnly.

"For going out to dinner and whatnot," he said from the armchair he was sitting in, "but I am assuming you don't have a dress, since every time you've required one, you've had to buy one. That is why you should go to your parents' house today. You haven't seen them in a while, haven't you?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Why are you trying to get me out of the house?"

"Aww . . . you like it so much here that you don't want to go back to your flat? How touching. I'll make sure to tell Harry next time I see him." Voldemort smiled and went back to writing on his sheet of parchment.

"You know that's not what I meant," Hermione said condescendingly, "and stop turning my sentences around. There is no reason why you would want me to go to my parents house just because; so you must be planning on doing something here you don't want me to be present for."

"I am planning on doing something, I am planning on making you go to your mother to get a dress," he responded while looking up from his writing and setting the quill down.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Are the Malfoys throwing a party or something? You don't strike me as the type to be hosting parties all year round."

"Valentine's day is coming up."

Hermione grinned like the Cheshire cat and brought her legs up to her chest. "Aww . . . so you're going to have a little Valentine's day Death Eater comraderie event? How touching." She sneered at the end much like he did every time he repeated those two words.

"Haha," he mocked and then rolled his eyes. "No, but maybe I want to do something with you for Valentine's day. Something which would require you to look nice."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. She kept quiet and studied him to see if he was mocking. "You honestly expect me to believe you would do something that thoughtful?"

Tom looked taken back, he placed his hand on his chest as his serpentine features contorted into an expression of aghast.

"Hermione, you insult me! Gallantry is my other name."

"Yes," she muttered with a smirk, "along with hypocrisy." She went back to reading her book.

He chuckled. "Oh, Hermione, you truly are a delight."

Hermione smiled at that.

"But, in honesty's name, I really do need you to go buy a nice dress. Your current attire would be unsuitable for the place I have planned."

Hermione folded her book and put her legs down on the rug while leaning her forearms onto her thighs. "You really are serious about this?"

"Of course," he said smoothly.

"Well, you do remember that I'm engaged, right?" Hermione went on slowly, "so I will have to spend Valentine's day with my fiancé."

"Okay," he said in a perk tone, "well then, why don't you go to your parents to buy a nice dress with your mother and then hop over to Ronald's place and break it off with him." He shrugged both shoulders. "Kill two birds with one stone."

"Tom," Hermione said in between her sigh. She shook her head slightly. "I only just accepted my feelings for you. I can't go now and break it off with my fiancé: it's too soon, and I'm not sure about it, anyway."

Hermione felt that he wanted to push her more about it. She knew that his ego would be doing angry somersaults at her last statement, but she hoped he didn't press her about it. It was a very delicate and complicated situation after all, one which she'd only recently accepted and wasn't about to complicate further by having to choose between Ron or Him.

Thankfully, he remained quiet. Hermione heard him inhale as if to calm himself and then stand up. Hermione looked up as he came over her.

"Make sure you're back by dinner and don't buy any loose dresses. Something form-fitting like that silver dress you wore at my birthday party is what you should be looking for. So go, chop chop!"

Without waiting to see her even get up to leave, he whirled around in a flurry of robes and sat back down in his armchair. His serpentine face half hidden by the book he was reading. Hermione didn't move from her seat: she didn't like being bossed around by him.

He looked up, red eyes narrowing over his book. "Do you need me to help you to the door?"

Hermione put the book down and rolled her eyes. "Ugh . . . you are so infuriating sometimes."

"Oh, you're welcome, no need to be so grateful. I know how much you miss your parents." He flipped a page, eyes firmly on his reading.

Hermione rolled her eyes once more before leaving the library.

* * *

Which is when Voldemort's eyes snapped up over his book which he set down on the marble-top side table.

"Deepti."

A few seconds later, a house elf appeared next to the Dark Lord's armchair. Out of the corner of his eye, Voldemort saw her come up from her vow. "Master?"

"Let me know when Ms. Granger leaves the premises."

"Yes, my lord." The house elf bowed once more and disappeared.

The Dark Lord sighed loudly and settled back into his reading, he hoped she wouldn't take so long. Fifteen minutes later, the elf came back.

"Missus just flooed away."

"Send Epi in."

Hermione's elf bowed and disappeared once more. Voldemort took his wand from the side table and pointed it at the fireplace. "Morsmordre vocare." The fireplace turned green and the flames began swirling around a dark circle. "Draco!"

As soon as he said this, the portal was closed and the fire returned to its normal appearance. Voldemort turned to set his wand down on the table; he heard his personal elf appearing at that moment.

"Master?"

"Fix me a scotch."

"Right away, master." The house elf scuttled back to the bar while the Dark Lord returned to his reading with a sigh.

A few seconds passed, the only sounds coming from the corner bar where the elf was busy preparing his master's drink. Voldemort shifted in his seat and rested his elbow on the arm of the armchair while resting his chin on his spread out thumb, his ring finger running up alongside his profile to his pale, thin eyebrows. Voldemort's eyes flickered up towards the elf who was coming towards him with the fixed drink. He took his head off its resting place in his hand and reached out for the small glass just as there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," he called out while swirling his drink. His eyes remained fixed on the bobbing ice cubes amidst the amber liquid in the cool glass. He waited until he saw Malfoy and his redhead out of the corner of his eye to take his first gulp. The usual burn erupted in his insides and a searing heat settled in his chest; however, through years of practice, this pleasing discomfort was unnoticed in the cold, expressionless mask of his facial emotions.

He set the glass down on the coaster, and he made sure to not acknowledge the increasingly tense couple. Their fidgeting warmed his insides even more than the scotch.

"My lord, we are sorry if we kept you waiting," Draco ventured to say.

"Sit."

Oh, the brief, but foreboding look the two shared . . . delicious. Voldemort smiled slightly and decided his cold shoulder treatment had run its course. He watched them as they sat down on the sofa. Ginny looked up at him and, unaware that he was watching them, inadvertently met his eyes. He smirked when she rapidly averted them again.

"Hello Ginevra."

She bowed her head a few inches before glancing at Draco for support. "My lord."

"How are you?"

"Well," Ginny replied quickly, "you?"

"Good. . . good." He smirked while looking down at his glass. "Would you like a drink?"

"No, thank you, my lord," Draco murmured.

Voldemort smirked again. "Two scotch," he called out to the elf at the corner. He turned back to the couple and smiled with closed lips. "The picture doesn't work if I'm the only one with a drink."

Draco murmured his thanks and an uncomfortable silence (for the couple) settled over the room where once more the only sounds came from the elf at the corner. Voldemort smiled inwardly, he could see Draco writhing with anticipation and worry. His calm and unresponsive demeanor was clearly unnerving the boy.

"So, my lord –"

The Dark Lord didn't even allow Malfoy to finish his sentence before taking his wand off the table and directing it at him.

"Crucio!"

The look on the redhead's face as her boyfriend writhed on the floor was utterly delicious. He could tell she wanted to tell him to stop, but feared the consequences if she did. He wouldn't stop though, it served her right for having snooped around him and Hermione – even though no harm had come from it.

"Hasn't your father taught you you are to only speak when spoken to?" the Dark Lord murmured in a calm; almost caring voice. "Especially when it comes to me?"

"My lord, please forgive me," Draco said trying to keep the shakiness out of his voice as he got off the floor and back in the sofa next to Ginny with as much dignity as he could muster. The redhead grabbed his arm and squeezed it while giving Draco a worried look.

"Well, since you two are obviously incapable of going one full minute without touching each other, I'll get to my point." Voldemort purposely paused and made it seem as though he was taking a breath; as He expected, Draco jumped in right after him.

"My lord, I'm sorry if we gave you that impression." Voldemort gave an inward smile when Draco shook off his girlfriend's hand and actually made a quarter turn away from her so that he was facing the Dark Lord and giving Ginny his back. "Please take your time."

"Well, actually it's more Ms. Weasley I wish to speak with." Ginny, who had previously been glaring daggers at her boyfriend's back, widened her eyes and snapped them on the Dark Lord.

"What where you doing upstairs?"

Ginny opened her mouth and closed it before opening it again. "I . . . was sent there by my family, they wanted to make sure Hermione was alright."

Voldemort gave a nod and rested his elbow on the arm of the chair while bringing his outstretched ring finger over his lips in a pensively reserved gesture. "You haven't told anyone."

"No. " Ginny shook her head while she said it.

"Good." Voldemort brought his hand down so that it draped over the arm of the armchair. "Since you are the only that knows, if it were to ever come out without my intending it, I would automatically assume that it was your doing. In that case, your boyfriend as well as yourself would suffer greatly, is that understood?"

"Yes, my lord," they said quietly.

"Draco, go wait outside while I have one final word with Ms. Weasley."

The youngest Malfoy was worried; he glanced at his girlfriend while standing up and stretching his hand to place it on her shoulder reassuringly. However, the Weasley girl turned her shoulder away without even looking at him.

"I'll be fine, Draco," she said coldly.

Voldemort inwardly chuckled . . . looks like trouble in paradise – oh how easily manipulated people in love were, it was truly delightful. The Dark Lord basked in thought until Malfoy finished exiting and the door had shut behind him. He didn't start right after that though; he allowed the silence to reign in the room for a few tense seconds as he surveyed the redhead. She was afraid, but was trying hard to not show it by sitting ramrod straight. At that moment, the Dark Lord was reminded of Narcissa, and he wondered if Ginny would turn out like her or if, with a little more coaxing from himself and Malfoy, she might want to join the Death Eaters.

"Why so tense, Ginevra?" he finally asked.

The redhead swallowed and her face broke into an apologetic but forced smile. "I'm sorry, but it's the first time I'm meeting you like this."

He grunted. "True, but if you and Draco are as serious as I think you are, you'd better start acclimating to me."

Ginny nodded her approval.

"You might want to start by addressing me proper."

He smirked at the tightening of her jaw, the girl's refusal to address him as 'my lord' was the first wall of resistance that needed to be tackled.

"With all due respect, I am not your follower," she said somewhat curtly. Voldemort would've punished her for it, but since she was of the opposite side, the vow was in place.

"No, but Draco is," the Dark Lord countered; he didn't think he needed to say more, she was a smart girl: she'd understand the underlying threat.

Ginny swallowed and clasped her hands on her lap to steady them from their shaking.

"All in due time, however . . ." the Dark Lord said, "as of now, we have enough to tackle. Have you told Hermione?"

"No, of course not," Ginny said.

"Didn't think you would, great, let's keep it that way," he said with a teethy smile, "until I tell you otherwise."

Ginny nodded stiffly, her eyes on the Persian carpet under their feet.

"Is there something else on your mind?"

"Well, do you know if Hermione plans on breaking up with my brother?" Ginny said meekly.

"She's never mentioned it," he said in a soft voice, "although I did, but she never gave me a straight answer. I think she wants him to find out, because she has no intention of breaking it off with me." He sighed silently. "However, Ronald isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, and so he's not going to be figuring it out anytime soon," he finished with an earnest shrug before widening his eyes slightly and adding, "her words, of course."

Ginny frowned slightly and looked down at her hands. Voldemort knew he didn't have as good a chance of manipulating the redhead as everyone else since she had gotten to know him quite well in her first year. However, she was weak at the moment, her respect and image of Hermione had wavered after walking in on them; so it was likely that she would be more receptive to his manipulations.

"She just doesn't want to look bad in front of all her friends," he went on, "and revealing her affair with me would put a damper on that just a little," he said quietly. "Why do you think she got so defensive when that article in The Prophet came out along with the picture? Of course, that could also be a natural reaction to clear her image from a false acccusation, but if that had been the case, don't you think she would've given an interview or sent a letter or something to The Prophet? She didn't deny it though . . . mainly because, as Dumbledore advised her, that would only lead to more digging, and then there was the chance that the truth might be exposed."

"Wait . . ." Ginny looked up for the first time, "Dumbledore knows?"

"Of course," Voldemort said quickly before pausing and biting his bottom lip before parting them with a smacking tone. His eyes went on hers while he leaned forward. "I shouldn't be telling you this, but he's the one that told her not to break it off with your brother. Dumbledore knew that if she did, it would validate the article and the rumors, which would lead to investigating and the discovery of his pet project: the alliance. Hermione felt awful at using your brother like that, of course, but it was a sacrifice that had to be made," he finished gently, hands clasped,"for the Alliance."

"Oh," Ginny said somewhat shakily, only this time she wasn't shaking from fear as much as anger.

"Oh well, I've told you enough for someone that hasn't even pledged themselves to me. Run along now and remember to keep it silent on the front."

Ginny nodded while standing up and bowing her head slightly. "I will, thank you."

"Thank you what?"

Ginny colored and swallowed. "Thank you very much," she said.

He smirked and chuckled. "Good strategy . . . just for that I'll look it over this time, but next time I will expect you to address me as the future Malfoy you'll be would."

"Thank you," Ginny said once more before turning around and walking out the room.

* * *

As soon as she got home, Hermione realized just how much she had missed her parents. With everything that had been going on, she had almost forgotten them, but now, being with them at an ice cream parlor close to her home, she realized just how much she had been missing them. Originally, her parents had wanted to go to Florean Fortescue's Parlor, but Hermione had quickly shot down this idea. She couldn't be seen in Diagon Alley, the flurry that it would cause would be tremendous after the article in The Prophet, and she wanted to keep her parents in the dark as much as possible.

"So, how's everything? Are you getting busy? You haven't been seeing us as much," her father said.

Hermione shrugged and smiled apologetically. "Everything is fine, we are working on a project, and I have kind of an important role in the mission; so it's been taking up almost all my time."

"Can you talk about it?" her mother asked.

"No," Hermione said quickly. "It's highly classified."

"Oh." Her mother looked taken back, and her father was silent while he looked away at another table.

"I still don't get why you are fighting this war," he finally said.

"What do you mean?" Hermione said while lowering her voice. "We have to fight Voldemort and the dark side, we can't let them take over."

"No, they have to fight this Voldemort person, not you. It's their world, they were born into it, you weren't."

"I have become as much a part of it as them," Hermione said defensively.

"That may be so, but you'll always be an outsider. You were allowed to go to this school of theirs, you were allowed to join their world . . . you were granted a privilege, not a right. So, I honestly, don't know why you're risking your life and wasting your years fighting a war for a world you don't even belong in."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and sat back in her seat. "That is so not true, my home is with them. I have been in that world since I was 11! It's become my home, and they accept me as one of theirs. I'll always belong to the Muggle world as well, but the Wizarding world is my legitimate home."

"Well, it's . . ." her father sighed. "You know what, whatever, I don't see you enough to fight with you."

An uncomfortable silence followed during which Hermione tried to patch up the old wound her father had opened up: the wound of not belonging.

"So, how's Ron?" her mother asked trying to sound amicable.

"He's fine," Hermione said offhandedly. Her already soured mood was made even worse at the memory of her fiancé.

"When are we going to see you two? You should come over for dinner during the weekend."

"I don't know if I'll be free, mom," Hermione said, "I will have to get back to you."

"Oh, sure," Jean said quietly as once more an uncomfortable silence settled over them. Hermione was feeling angry at her father, but at the same time, she felt bad that the few hours she had with them were being wasted on an argument.

"So, mom, I need another dress, and since last time your picked out such a nice one for me, I wanted to know if you would help me pick out another one," Hermione said with a small smile.

Jean smiled. "Of course, hun, why do you need another dress, though? How many parties are you going to?"

"It's . . . part of the mission," Hermione said slowly, she didn't know how much to tell them. "It's kind of a diplomatic mission, and so I have to go to cocktail parties and reunions and things."

"The Order should be reimbursing you in that case," Hugo said, "you've bought more clothes these past few weeks than in your entire childhood."

"It's part of my mission," Hermione said, "I don't mind. Besides, I needed nice clothes, anyway now that I am no longer in school."

"We'll of course you don't mind, it's your mother paying after all."

"Hugo!" Jean snapped while hitting her husband on the arm.

"If it's the money that's the problem I can reimburse you," Hermione said brusquely. "Just make me an invoice, and I'll make monthly payments."

"Hermione, of course not, don't mind your father," Jean said while sending a glare at her moody husband.

"Dad, why are you being like this?" Hermione asked as she looked at her father whose eyes were on his cup of coffee. Hugo raised his hands, palms spread while shaking his head.

"It just bothers me that you're fighting this war that you shouldn't even be involved in and are sacrificing your life and your career for a world which views you as an outsider."

"They don't view me as an outsider," Hermione countered, eyes narrowed.

"Oh no? Then what's this war about? Isn't it to prevent Voldemort from killing everyone that's not pureblood?"

"But they're a small group," Hemione said, her voice faltering slightly, "everyone else doesn't believe that, and besides He doesn't want to kill everyone that's not pureblood, that's too extreme. He just wants to prevent more muggleborns from coming in."

Hermione didn't know why but by the end of her speech, she was flushed in the face and warm in the cheeks.

"Hermione, are you alright?" her mother asked.

"Yes, I'm sorry I'm just a little mad that's all," Hermione lied.

"Did you just make excuses for your enemy?"

Hermione frowned at her father's accusatory statement; she cursed as she felt her face warming up even more.

"What?"

"You were making excuses for Voldemort."

"No, I wasn't, I was simply correcting your statement because you know how much I hate being around misinformed people without correcting them." Hermione crossed her arms as she said this, for some reason it helped her focus and bring her racing heart under control. They were in really hot waters; she needed to get out now. "But dad, like you said before, we don't see each other enough to argue. Let's talk about something else."

"Yes, that's a great idea, Hugo," Jean told her husband before turning back to her daughter. "So, do you know what type of dress you need?"

"I was thinking a cocktail dress, nothing fancy. I don't know about colors though," Hermione said. She figured she could wear this dress when she and Ron went out as well. She almost snorted aloud at this – two dates on Valentine's day, no one would believe her if she told them. O_ne of which happens to be your fiancé who you are two-timing _. . . . Hermione swallowed silently and literally shook her head to clear that memory from her mind. She did not need her conscience stepping in right now.

"Okay, well, why don't you two go and buy the dress?" Hugo said, "I'll go home and make dinner. You are staying, right, Hermione?"

"No, I actually have to go back to the Order –"

"Oh come on, honey, I'm sure Dumbledore will understand, you haven't seen us in weeks."

_It's not Dumbledore understanding I'm worried about_, Hermione thought with a snort. "Well, could we do dinner a little early?"

"Five?"

"How about four?"

Hugo nodded. "Fine, but you better get going then, because it's already almost two."

"It won't take us that long to get a dress," Jean said while grabbing her bag and standing up, "we'll go back to that store we got the silver dress from."

"Oh,mom, no,"Hermione said quickly, "that place is way too expensive . . . ."

"But the dress was beautiful and will be with you for many years to come," Jean countered with a smile.

Hermione sighed and nodded. "Thanks, mom."

With that, the women said 'good-bye' to Hugo and left the café.

* * *

Bellatrix frowned when she came upon her lord's quarters and found Nagini coiled up in front of the door. The witch eyed the snake warily while keeping her distance, Nagini's eyes were fixed on hers while her body coiled and uncoiled itself continuously. Bellatrix took a step towards the door only to notice the snake coiling itself up even tighter and raising her head while sticking her tongue out and letting out a low hiss.

"I have to see him, snake," Bellatrix snarled. She stepped forward again with more confidence and was about to extend her arm to knock, when Nagini uncoiled herself and raised her long body until she was standing a good three feet over Bellatrix. She hissed louder this time, causing the Death Eater to step back in shock. "You fucking –"

Biting her lip, Bellatrix stomped away from the door and went to stand against the wall. "Epi!"

A few seconds later, her master's personal elf appeared.

"Ms. Bellatrix?"

"Why is that wretched animal there?" Bellatrix spat.

"The Dark Lord does not wish to be disturbed," Epi said quietly, "he is with someone."

The bells in Bellatrix's head went off. "With someone? What do you mean he's with someone? Who is it?"

"I cannot say for I do not know."

"Is it a man or a woman?"

"Man."

Bellatrix deflated after that. "Oh, alright . . . do you know how much longer he'll be in this meeting?"

"If you wish to wait in the library or music room, I will let you know as soon as the master is free."

Bellatrix wrinkled her nose at the elf, it was too bold for her taste. However, he was her master's elf, and so Bellatrix figured he would have to be more intelligent and dignified than the rest of his breed.

"I will wait here," she said briefly. She crossed her arms and turned away from the elf while glaring at the snake guarding her master.

"Would you like something to drink?" the house elf asked.

"No."

"Very well."

With a crack, the house elf disappeared. Bellatrix sniffed at its impudence, she would've cursed it, but it got away too fast. The witch leaned back against the wall and fixed her gaze on the door, it would've been far more comfortable for her to have followed the elf's suggestion of waiting elsewhere; however, she wanted, no, needed, to know who her master was talking to that required so much privacy. Bellatrix figured she would catch a glimpse of him as he left.

Before long, the minutes turned into hours.

Bellatrix, two hours later, was now sitting on the floor, her back against the wall with her legs propped up. A lit cigarette dangled off her right hand, which dangled over her right knee. Just as she was finishing taking a drag, she saw the doorknob being turned. Bellatrix hastily stood up and straightened herself as Nagini slithered away and to the side. The door was opened and a cloaked figure came out. For the few seconds that the man was facing her as he came out, Bellatrix was able to make out his prominent chin, thin lips and the tip of a straight nose. Everything else was in shadows, mainly because of his hooded cloak. Bellatrix watched the figure veer right, the cloak billowing behind him.

"Bellatrix, what have I told you about smoking in my house?"

Bellatrix turned her head towards her lord's voice. He had previously been standing in front of the door, but he was now coming towards her rather rapidly. Bellatrix felt a rush as she began hoping he would throw her against the wall and take her right in that corridor. The witch's breath caught when her lord's hand extended out towards her arm. Could it be her fantasy would come true? Just when Bellatrix was raising her other hand towards him, the Dark Lord's hand landed on her shoulder and pushed her away. Bellatrix stumbled slightly as she watched him squat down in the spot she had been standing in and run his hand over the carpet, a deep frown on his face. "You better thank Merlin you didn't ash on my carpet," he muttered darkly while straightening up.

Dejected, and a tad frustrated, Bellatrix responded, "I have a portable ashtray."

"Give me." He held out his hand.

Bellatrix frowned slightly. He wanted to smoke? She took her pack of cigarettes from her pocket . . .

"No, Bella, give me yours."

The witch hastily did so, would he take a drag? Would he put his heavenly lips on it? Oh she would treasure that cigarette bud forever!

As soon as the almost consumed cigarette had switched hands, Bellatrix was taken off-guard by his Cruciatus. She fell on the ground, but remained largely unmoving, years of practice had toughened her up to the curse. Her nails however, did dig into her palms so as to prevent her arms from flailing out in a miserable spectacle. Then it was over, breathing heavy, she stood up and bowed. "My lord, I am sorry for having displeased you."

He handed her back the cigarette bud. "Dispose of it." He snarled and whirled back in his office. Bellatrix did as she was told before following him into his lair.

"What is it you need?" he called out before sitting down behind his desk and leaning back in the chair, hands on his lap.

"I just wanted to check up with you, you haven't called me to report in a while," Bellatrix began slowly.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, there's no need. If Dumbledore was stepping out of the boundaries of the vow, and you found out, you would let me know. I'm not going to take time out of my busy day to call you over and ask how your day was."

Bellatrix was hurt by his statement; however, she didn't show it. Her lord seemed to be rather vindictive towards her, and for Bellatrix, that was completely unacceptable.

"My lord, have I upset you?"

"Oh please, Bellatrix, stop thinking so highly of yourself. My anger is set aside for pressing matters." He finished with a growl while looking down at the papers on his desk and organizing them into a stack.

Bellatrix's breathing sped up, and her heart started to ache. He was being so hurtful . . . there must only be one explanation for it. "Is it because of Granger?"

His hands froze in their shuffling of the papers. He looked up.

"What?"

Bellatrix knew she was on thin ice by his tone, but she didn't care. What more could he do to her than what he was currently doing?

"Did you leave me so you could be with her?"

His expression was unchanged for a few seconds, but then, his lips curled up slightly, and he looked away with a humorous sniff while shaking his head and chuckling.

"Oh, Bellatrix . . . what am I going to do with you?" He looked at her and then pushed his chair back, scraping over his precious Persian carpet as he did so. He went around the desk and towards her, his previously amused countenance gone. "I can't torture you because of that pesky masochistic streak in you . . . but you have been getting so bold and insubordinate that I am regretting ever having stepped up our relationship from master- servant. You are a complete and utter disappointment, Bella." Her pet name rolled of his tongue with mock endearment.

"My lord, please, I am just concerned for you," Bellatrix said in broken tones, she hated how vulnerable and emotional she got around him. "The Mudblood could take advantage of you, she could be -"

"Taking advantage of me?" the Dark Lord interrupted while crossing his arms, "do you think me that incompetent?"

"No! Of course not, forgive me, my lord, but I worry," Bellatrix said shrilly.

"Well, you shouldn't," he snapped, "because last I recall, I never asked you to!"

"My lord, how can you go on treating me like any other Death Eater when you know my feelings towards you –"

"I told you to get rid of those feelings," he interrupted, his glance hard, "now, if I overestimated you, and you turned out to be too weak to do even that, then I suggest you hide those feelings and keep them out of our professional relationship."

Bellatrix looked down at her arms, which she had wrapped around her shaking body. "Yes, my lord, yes."

There was a brief silence which was broken by the Dark Lord stepping towards her. "Bella, I mean it. This will be the last time I will discuss anything not related to our professional relationship, and if you don't think you can deal with having a purely business relationship with me, then tell me now so we can sever our ties."

"No, my lord, I can do it, of course I can do it," the woman said vehemently, her fervor coming back to her.

The Dark Lord nodded. "Good, then you're dismissed."

He turned away from her and towards the door leading to his bedroom. Bellatrix nodded briefly and meandered over to the fireplace with a distraught gait.

* * *

"Oh, I wonder who that could be?"

Jean set her napkin down on the table and pushed her chair back, Hermione watched as she walked out of the dining room and towards the foyer. She looked back down at her half-eaten filet mignon and took a few stabs at it, she wasn't that hungry. She and her father were still on awkward terms. Hermione glanced up at her father to see his expression; however, Hugo seemed bent on keeping to himself. With an inward sigh, Hermione scooped up some mashed potatoes with her fork and started chewing on them.

"Hermione?" Jean stood at the doorway, hands clasped on her front. "There's a man outside by the name of Oscar; he says he was sent here by Dumbledore to pick you up."

Hermione frowned. Oscar? Voldemort was the only one who knew she was at her parents.

"What did he look like?" she asked cautiously.

"Tall, handsome, black hair and brown eyes."

Fuck. Hermione set her fork down. What the hell is he doing here? Oh this can't be good . . . .

"Hermione, everything alright?" Hugo asked breaking his silence.

"Yeah, it's fine, I just didn't know he was coming," Hermione said.

"Okay, well, he's waiting outside . . . ."

Yeah, right, Hermione thought with a snort. His highness wait outside? Maybe until her mother turned around. When Hermione got to the foyer, she was surprised to not see him there. Could he truly have respected her mother's wishes and waited outside? Just when she was about to open the door, she heard cabinets being opened to her right. Hermione went across the family room and into the kitchen from where the noises were coming.

"What are you doing here, Oscar?" Hermione crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe..

The Dark Lord had the cabinet door open; so she couldn't see him upwards of his shoulders.

"Trying to get a drink of water. Where do you keep the glasses?" He shut the cabinet door and turned to her.

"The one next to that one," Hermione said with a sigh, "you couldn't wait until I came to get you?"

"No, I'm thirsty," he replied brusquely while rolling his eyes and filling his glass with water from the dispenser.

"Why are you here?" Hermione asked again.

"To pick you up, didn't your mother tell you?" he said, once he was done drinking from the glass.

"Well, we are halfway through dinner. I can't really leave that brusquely," Hermione said, "I told you I would come back early, and it's only ten past 5. I'll be back by 5:40 or six, okay?"

He glanced at her silently for a few seconds. "What are you having?"

"Just filet mignon with steamed spinach," Hermione said with a shrug, "like I said we're almost through. I won't be long."

"Fine," he said as he came closer to her. "We'll stay." He placed his arm around her waist and made her walk with him towards the kitchen exit.

"Tom, what are you doing?" she hissed while unlooping his arm from around her waist and stopping their walk. "You can't stay!"

"First off, Oscar is the name, and second, can't I get to know my future in-laws?"

Hermione swiped him on the chest and shushed him. "Stop it!"

"Oh come on, Hermione, lighten up . . . ." He pulled her towards him and gave her a brief, but somewhat loud kiss. Hermione broke away quickly.

"Tom . . . ." She hated how good it had felt, not just the kiss itself, but the rush she had gotten out of kissing in the kitchen where her parents could walk in on them at any moment. It was that forbidden quality of the Dark Lord that attracted her more than she would've wanted.

"We'll stay for a little while . . . and then go back home so I can do all the horrible things I've been planning on doing to you," he muttered while kissing her neck. Hermione smiled and felt a thrill at his words. She looked around to make sure no one was around or on their way, before pulling away from him.

"Fine," Hermione hissed with a smirk. "Oscar." She grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him towards her in a bruising kiss. She smiled fleetingly when she felt him stumble due to her rough and unexpected handling. "What? I'm not getting to be too much for you, am I?" Hermione muttered with a smirk after breaking off the kiss abruptly.

He chuckled, his face millimeters away from hers. "You wish."

Hermione closed her eyes when their lips became engaged once more and decided to give their kiss her undivided attention. He seemed to be thinking along the same lines, and before long, they were both in a lip-lock so tight and eager, that it took them a second holler from Hermione's mother to disentangle themselves. Hermione cursed and jumped off the counter Voldemort had placed her on.

"Hermione?"

"Mom," Hermione said as she rushed into the foyer trying to not look out of breath, "I'm sorry, I was helping Oscar get a drink in the kitchen."

Jean nodded. "Oh, okay, well, why doesn't he stay for dinner? You two don't have a meeting tonight, right?"

"No, actually he's busy. He's meeting with Dumble –"

"Was meeting with Dumbledore, actually."

Hermione turned in her heel and glared at an approaching Tom. Damn. Maybe she was being paranoid, but she felt she was pushing the envelope by having him dine with her and her parents.

"I'm afraid he cancelled on me which is why he sent me out to get you instead."

One dazzling smile was sent down to a tightlipped Hermione.

"Oh well, would you like to stay for dinner?" Jean asked with a smile.

"I would love to if it's not too much trouble," Oscar replied in a sheepish voice Hermione had never imagined him possessing.

"Oh no, not at all," Jean replied with a smile and ushered them into the dining room. "Hugo, this is Oscar, Hermione's fellow Order member; he's going to be joining us tonight."

Hermione's father nodded at 'Oscar' in greeting. "Nice to meet you, Oscar."

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Granger. I've been wanting to meet you for a while, I must admit. Hermione always speaks of you and Mrs. Granger." Hermione sat back down in her seat without glancing at Tom who took the seat next to her.

Her father chuckled. "Good things I hope?"

"Very, and if that ever changed I would make sure to let you know."

Hugo and Tom laughed at that. Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn't keep a smirk from coming over her face. Almost immediately, Jean came back with the Dark Lord's plate after which they all once more resumed their dinner. Hermione stayed quiet for almost the entire time, the only time she spoke up was when she and Tom were asked about the current state of affairs in the Wizarding world and their positions within the Order. Apparently, Oscar worked in the Minister's cabinet and was an informant for Dumbledore. Hermione tried hard to keep from bursting out loud in laughter or even twisting her lips into a smile as she heard him describe with absolute conviction and naturalness, the life he had created for Oscar. Her parents were, of course, enthralled by him. Like moths to a light bulb, Hermione decided as she watched her mother laughing, and her father giving Him his undivided attention. Once they were done, 'Oscar' couldn't have helped Jean pick up the dishes from the table fast enough, and even though Jean begged him to stay seated multiple times, he adamantly refused each offer. Once the two had gone in the kitchen, things were very awkward between Hermione and her father once more.

"You've been very quiet," Hugo said silently.

"Well, you all were engaged in conversation. I didn't want to interrupt," Hermione said with a warm smile.

"You don't like him?" Hugo went on soberly, "you seemed very uncomfortable this entire time."

"No, of course not, Oscar is great," Hermione said quickly, "it's just he has accomplished so much that it makes me feel a little self-conscious when I'm around him."

Her father smiled. "Well, he's older than you and more well-connected. He's a good one to keep as a friend, though . . . what does Ron think of him?"

"He likes him," Hermione said simply, "they're not really friends, but they're amicable."

Hugo nodded. "Good," he muttered. "You always want to have people with connections as friends, you never know how he could help you or Ron out."

Hermione nodded. "Yeah . . . ." She trailed off when she heard her mother and Tom coming back in with dessert, and instead, her dialogue became internal. At the mention of Ron, her conscience was kicked back into gear and a million guilty thoughts crossed her mind. However, one of them stood out to her. What if her parents mentioned to Ron that an Order member by the name of Oscar had dined with them? Ron would immediately throw the lid open on that Pandora's box, and from there one would only need a quarter of a brain to figure out the rest of the trail leading to her great secret. Looking up from her slice of warm chocolate lava cake, Hermione looked at her parents and mentally wrote herself a reminder to tell them to not let Ron know about Oscar.

* * *

Ginny was still a bite sore at Draco for his behavior in the Dark Lord's office. Even though it was pretty understandable, she still thought that turning his back to her had been a bit much. However, Ginny's anger was too focused on other subjects to bother with Draco's slight faux pas.

"What else did he say?" Malfoy asked, they were standing in the middle of a sitting room at Malfoy Manor.

"He just made sure I wouldn't tell anyone about him and Hermione," she said offhandedly. She still hadn't decided whether she should share the rest of the conversation with him.

"What about your brother? Did he say if she was going to break it off with him?"

"He wants her to," Ginny said looking up at him, "but I think she still has doubts . . . ."

"Well, yeah," Draco said sarcastically while running his hand over his helmet of hair.

Ginny sighed and flopped down on the sofa. "I don't know what to do, I mean how am I supposed to look my brother in the eyes each morning? How am I supposed to live under the same roof as her? How am I even supposed to sleep in my room again?"

Draco shushed her silently, Ginny moaned and hid her face in her hands. "Why did I have to walk in on them? Why? Why?" she moaned.

"What's done is done," Draco said sitting down next to her, "no use moaning about it." Ginny squeezed his hand and they sat there for a few seconds in silence. "Do you think she'll marry him?" Draco asked suddenly.

"I . . ." Ginny frowned, mouth agape and lost for words. At first, she would've adamantly denied the possibility of the Dark Lord ever getting married, but with his insistence on her not telling anyone about his relationship with Hermione, Ginny wasn't so sure anymore. I mean, if he was just doing this to hurt the Order, he would've loved to have it known as soon as possible. Ginny had also noticed a change in Hermione's demeanor and clothing style: she looked a lot more polished and acted more sophisticated, so much so that Ginny was reminded of Him. So clearly, he had been polishing her up this entire time . . . . "It wouldn't surprise me," she finally said. "He doesn't want the Order to find out about him and Hermione; and if he were just sleeping with her to deal a blow to the Order, he would've made it known already. And then you said that they went on a trip together?"

Draco nodded. "Paris."

Ginny let out a sniff. "Wow . . . but I can't believe she would do something like this . . . the nerve."

"It would seem that the friendless, bucktoothed, bookworm Granger we knew has been indefinitely filed away," Malfoy said with a smirk.

Ginny nodded absentmindedly. "And now I have to keep it quiet . . . ." she moaned and looked up at the ceiling, hands on the sides of her head.

"Hey, it's okay, I'll be here for you. We'll get through this, don't worry," Malfoy muttered while stroking her cheek and brining her head down.

"Okay," Ginny whispered with a tired smile and a sigh, "okay."

He responded with a kiss that took all their worries momentarily away.

* * *

As soon as Bellatrix left the Dark Lord's office, she went to her sister's where she usually took refuge after a fight with her lord. Narcissa only sighed when she caught sight of a red-eyed Bellatrix coming out of the fireplace.

"What did he do now?"

"Oh, don't you patronize me!" Bellatrix snapped, fresh tears springing into her eyes. "You don't know what it's like!"

"We've been over this, Trixie," Narcissa said while putting down her brush with which she had been brushing her long blonde hair in front of an ornate vanity. "What more do you want me to say? I have told you time and again to get over him! It's the only option you have, but you refuse to take my advice and instead spend your days hoping he'll change his mind!"

Narcissa walked towards her sister who was sitting in the corner sofa looking down at the rug. "Trixie, please, you have got to understand once and for all that he is not interested in you." Bellatrix snarled and pushed her sister away while standing up and going over to the balcony. "Bellatrix, I'm serious!" Narcissa went on, "you've got to stop living for him and start living for yourself!"

"You don't know what you're saying!" Bellatrix shrieked, "you've never been in love!"

"Love isn't one-sided," Narcissa hissed, "love is something two people share. What you have isn't love, it's obsession."

"Love! Obsession! It's all the same!" Bellatrix cried out with a laugh, "oh you really don't know anything, little sister . . . he's just using the Mudblood bitch to get back at the Order, that's why he broke it off with me. You'll see, as soon as he is done dealing with the Order, we'll get back together."

"By 'Mudblood bitch' you mean . . .?" Narcissa said in a very innocent voice.

"I shouldn't be telling you this," Bellatrix said while shaking her head, "he wouldn't like it."

"Oh come on," Narcissa whined while grabbing hold of her arm. "Is it Granger? I heard rumors . . . ."

"I'm not telling you," Bellatrix said while shaking her sister's arm off hers.

"So it is true!" Narcissa said in a triumphant voice.

Bellatrix whirled around. "Fine, it is, but you have to keep your mouth shut, and don't you dare tell your little Friday night gossip group."

Narcissa pursed her lips in disappointment, but nodded. "I wouldn't want Him coming after Draco or Lucius, anyway." Her face broke into a gleeful smile almost immediately after. "Oh, but I can just see the headline when it finally does get out!" She extended her arms and her hands swiped the air with their palms in a headline gesture. " 'Hermione Granger, Harry Potter's best friend, romantically involved with You-Know-Who!' Oh how wonderful that day will be, I'll be able to tell the girls all the filthy little details which I'll make sure to find out." She giggled, hands clasped greedily.

"Not with my help," Bellatrix added while rolling her eyes, her sister's stereotypical, upper-class wife lifestyle and attitude getting to her. "Bye."

"Oh come on Trixie, don't be like that!" Narcissa said following her sister who was walking towards the door. "We haven't even discussed your problem thoroughly."

"Are you sure I have the problem?" Bellatrix sniffed and rolled her eyes. "Good bye."

She shut the door in Narcissa's face and locked the door with a wandless charm; she could hear her sister calling out to her and furiously turning the unyielding doorknob. Bellatrix kept walking, she didn't want Cissa following her. She walked down the corridor in a quick pace as she didn't want to run into anyone who would disturb her depressed mood. However, she stopped in her tracks when she heard a familiar, but detested voice coming from one of the rooms in front of her. Bellatrix quietly edged over to the door the voice was coming from.

"Revelato," she muttered at the door, which paled out until it was almost translucent and she could see the inhabitants in the room. Her breath caught: Ginny Weasley with her nephew. In shock, Bellatrix slowly closed her previously agape mouth and made sure no one was coming before turning her attention back to the scene.

"He wants her to, but I think she still has doubts," the redhead was saying.

"Well, yeah," Draco answered looking worried.

Bellatrix scrunched up her nose when the redhead collapsed on the couch and started wailing about her predicament: so weak. However, she was even more disgusted when her nephew bent down to comfort her. What weaklings! It was only when Draco asked 'do you think she'll marry him' that Bellatrix's attention was brought back. Ginny looked to be in thought for a while before answering.

"It wouldn't surprise me. He doesn't want the Order to find out about him and Hermione; and if he were just sleeping with her to deal a blow to the Order, he would've made it known already. And then you said that they went on a trip together?"

"Yes," Draco said.

Bellatrix's mouth was agape once more, only this time it was more out of anger than surprise. A trip to Paris? He'd never taken her anywhere! But no . . . He was not interested in Granger, Weasley was wrong. He was using her . . . but the Weasley whore did counter that argument, her mind said.

"No, no, no," Bellatrix muttered. "He is just using the Mudblood to get at the Order, but Weasley is too stupid to see that, yes, that is it." She looked up, eyes narrowed. "Evanesco," she muttered at the door so that it would return to normal. She continued her walk. Even though the information was useless, her little detour had gained her blackmail-worthy material on the Weasley girl and Draco. Now, if one of them pissed her off, she could dangle that puppy over their lovesick heads.


	12. Chapter 12

Hey everyone, here it is, after four months of intense labor . . .

Also some notes,

1. Before people think I've committed an oversight in this chapter, I'll clear up that Dumbledore knows Hermione went to Paris with Voldemort and was taking Polyjuice potion throughout the trip; however, he doesn't know what her Polyjuiced face looked like (so he doesn't associate Jane with Hermione.)

2. To all the Bellatrix haters, you will love how this chapter turns out.

Now, lots of love to Dramione-fan 17, loveya3xx,abcdreamer (glad to see another person that obsesses with fashion lol), sweet Nerys as always and serp, ilovenat 1995,beautiful-liar13, I love Adams (hope the chapter makes it worth the wait which was way longer than I thought it would be so so sorry! Please don't hate); Miasma, Flowerchild67, ; oooLady Indigooo;leanna de weisdorn; missimpossible; Allie Martha (your 'jewel in the world of H/V' comment warms my heart to this day, thank you!); chelseabaabyox3; cirkeline (sigh! LV is god what can I say!); Patricia de Lioncourt; alannalove1990; ilovesiriusorionblack (my now screaming fangirl!);xxRosexScorpiusxx; M3dusa; Darkness-lightness; Inkfire; sweet-tang-honey; Lk-Hogwarts-Head-Girl; Armanifan 101.

Thank you to all my loyal reviewers and all the new ones!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not make any money from these writings.

* * *

In her sleep, Hermione smiled at the pleasant tickling on her neck. When she neared the surface of consciousness, Hermione recognized the source of her pleasure to be lips, specifically His lips. With a wider smile, she opened her eyes and burrowed her fingers in his hair as he looked up from her neck.

"Good morning."

She smiled lightly. "Indeed." She cleared her throat, the croakiness in her voice making her blush.

"I would kiss you, but you know I don't like morning breath," he said with a smirk before leaving her side of the bed on which he had previously been sitting on.

Hermione propped herself up on her arms. " Well, that's incredibly unromantic of you, but I guess I appreciate your frankness."

"You have five minutes to get ready and join me downstairs for breakfast," he said while putting on his boots. "We have an early meeting."

"Why didn't you wake me up before? You're already ready," Hermione whined as she threw the covers off her legs and swung them over the side of the bed.

"I'm just wearing a black robe, Hermione, no need to wake up at the crack of dawn to choose an outfit for a dull morning meeting."

He smirked; Hermione rolled her eyes as she went past him.

"Unless of course, you wish to impress my Death Eaters with your outfits and give them prove of the far-reaching influence I am having over you, in that case I would applaud your initiative."

"Don't flatter yourself," Hermione said with a smirk while leaving his room and heading out towards hers so she could dress; she made sure to pick out the baggiest, most unappealing robes she found in her wardrobe and slipped on the first pair of boots she found laying around. There, let's see him try to impress his Death Eaters now.

Hermione found it hard to keep a straight face as she flooed down to the breakfast room where he was already seated; she could see his face twisting unpleasantly at her shabby and unmade appearance . . . hell, she wasn't even wearing make-up.

"This looks good," Hermione commented cheerily at the warm, whole grain toast in the basket, she finally looked up at him and smiled.

"At least one thing in this room does," he commented dryly while looking back down at his plate and sipping his tea. He didn't comment further, and Hermione took it as a small victory.

"So what's the meeting about?"

"What it's always about."

"And you've never felt the need to change it up a bit? You know, make your life a little more bearable?" It was cheeky of her, she knew, but he seemed mellow enough this morning.

"Well that's what your darling Order friends are for, torturing them to death always leaves me with a warm feeling." He smirked. "I can't wait until I kill Potter, I've already got a plaque on my wall for his head."

Hermione felt her stomach begin to churn, she remembered seeing an empty plaque right over the fireplace down in the main library; she had wondered why that one had been empty while all the other ones had had African animal heads on them.

"You like where I placed it or do you think I should move it somewhere else? Like our bedroom, perhaps?" He was grinning at her now. Hermione shifted in her seat, it had been a long time since his snake face had scared her; however, at the moment, she would've liked nothing better than to run to her parents. "Wouldn't it look wonderful over the bed? Like a bed crown of sorts?" he looked away from her and towards the far off corner of the room while leaning back pensively in his chair, "that's actually a very good idea, after all he is the jewel missing from my crown, and once I kill him, my crown will be complete with my victories and what better way of displaying my hard earned triumph than over our bed where I can be lulled to sleep by it every night?"

He looked back at her with a grin. "Oh, Hermione, you give me such good ideas."

"Me? My mind is not fucked up enough to come up such disgusting scenarios," Hermione snapped.

"Now, now, Hermione, don't cheat yourself, give yourself the credit your deserve." He stood up and took a step towards her; he grabbed her hand and pulled her up. "We don't want to be late to my bore of a meeting, right, Hermione?"

She glared at him and pulled her hand out of his before crossing her arms over her chest and pushing past him; however, just as she did, his hand shot out and yanked her towards him. Hermione beat her fists on his chest. "Let me go!"

He smiled, and that only infuriated her more. For the next few seconds, she fought like a rabbit in the claws of an eagle before finally giving up and fixing him with a hard glare.

"Are you done?" he said calmly.

Blast him and his coolness, her struggle hadn't even caused him a drop of sweat.

"Then we go, and I suggest you wipe that spiteful look off your face before anyone sees it. I won't have the Death Eaters making any speculations."

He swept past her; Hermione glared at him as she started following him, but then decided to follow his advice and wipe all emotions off her face. If there was one thing she could admit to learning in this dog eat dog environment the Death Eaters inhabited, the importance of a poker face was it.

Once they were right around the corner of the main ballroom, the Dark Lord stopped and waggled his hairless brow bones at her in farewell before Disapparating. Hermione rolled her eyes and continued down towards the main ballroom entrance or the "mortal's entrance" as she liked to call it since his highness liked to show off by Apparating through the wards instead of walking in through the door like everyone else. Of course, Hermione could not bear the smugness with which he had explained himself to her, and so she sweetly reminded him that the most basic rule of ward casting states that the conjurer is the only one able to Apparate through their own wards. So, unless all Death Eaters had forgotten this basic tenant just like He had, there really was no one he was impressing. The Dark Lord had thrown one of his hissy fits after that and kicked her out of their bedroom and into hers which, Hermione found out the next morning, Voldemort had locked so that only he was able to open the door. It had only been a couple of days now since he had let her out; however, he was still touchy.

"Granger, finally gracing us with your presence, are you? These fine men here have been waiting for you for over ten minutes, not to mention you've made me wait, too, what with that stupid vow in place, we can't say or do anything without you to . . . _supervise _us kids," he jeered at his Death Eaters who chuckled.

Hermione had to mentally glue her eyes to the bottom of her eye sockets, rolling them now would not be good for her later. "I'm sorry." She looked him straight in the eyes while she said this, her lips set in a line. _The nerve of you_, she added. He smirked and looked away before continuing his pacing, hands clasped behind his back. Hermione stood as far from the group as she could and focused on a tree outside the large windows behind Voldemort. She could see a few of the Death Eaters turning around to look at her with smirks; however, her eyes were glued to the tree outside. The meeting was as boring as Hermione figured it would be, then again not much had been going on. Plus, Hermione figured, now that Voldemort could not make any plans to harm the Order (specifically Harry), his workload must've been cut down by 90%. Thankfully, his highness seemed to have realized the pointlessness of his morning meeting because within twenty minutes, he adjourned it.

Normally, Hermione would wait on the side for everyone to leave so that she could meet up with Voldemort; however, this time she filed out as soon as he had finished talking. She didn't want to face him or his followers, she was mad at them all. She would've kept on walking, arms crossed and head bowed, had Draco Malfoy not caught up with her.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Hermione snapped while swatting his hand off her arm.

"Why so pissy, Granger?" He grinned.

Hermione groaned and made to turn away from him with a roll of her eyes.

"You and your boyfriend had a fight?" he went on.

Hermione stopped in her tracks, he couldn't possibly know . . . . She turned to face him.

"What the hell are you talking about, Malfoy?"

"You know what I'm talking about," he went on, his grin matching the feral gleam in his cold eyes. "Didn't think you had it in you, I'll admit. You always were the virgin, goody two shoes, after all . . . so I guess it makes sense that now you would turn into a raging slut."

"Shut the fuck up, Malfoy," Hermione hissed, the wick of her repressed anger bursting to flame. She took a step towards him. "I have no idea what you're talking about or what you're trying to imply, but I won't stand by and let you call me names. I may have done that in school, but now we're on different ground."

"Very different ground, indeed" he insisted with a hiss, "a ground where it's okay to be fucking your best friend's killer, you fucking mudblood whore."

Her anger's wick burned out. The explosion that followed landed Malfoy on his back cradling his nose which Hermione had broken with a deafening punch. The brunette couldn't remember the last time she flew into a rage like this one, the power of her anger was such that even though Malfoy was on the ground, she still wanted to hurt him, she wanted him dead. So Hermione made to throw herself at him and continue beating him; however, before she even touched his body, she was thrown off by an invisible force and onto the floor, landing on her elbows. She could see the Death Eaters had started coming their way; however, her eyes were ripped from them to Malfoy who had raised his wand at her. As soon as he tried to utter a curse; however, his face cringed in pain, and he clutched his throat while allowing his wand to fall.

"Stupid fucking vow! How come she got to hit me?" he screeched in anger at his father who had just kneeled down besides him. Suddenly, Hermione felt very, very vulnerable as the entire inner circle surrounded them. For some reason, Voldemort was nowhere to be seen and at that moment, Hermione was praying for him to appear.

"You fucking Mudblood piece of shit, how dare you?" Lucius snarled while looking up at her, and even though he couldn't hurt her, the look on his face was enough to disquiet Hermione.

"He was asking for it, and besides it's just a broken nose," Hermione snapped, honestly what a pussy, one spell could fix him, and yet Draco was bawling like the world was at its end.

Lucius' hand shot out towards her; Hermione was so startled, she fell back to avoid his grasp; however, she didn't have to worry because as soon as he got within a few inches of her, he withdrew his hand like he'd been burned.

"That fucking stupid –"

"What's going on?"

_Oh, thank God_.

"My lord, the Mudblood broke my son's nose. She's found a way around the protective spell!"

Voldemort's eyes went on her.

"No I haven't!" Hermione snapped while standing up, "I don't know what happened or why it let me hit him, but it just did!"

"Go, all of you," the Dark Lord said, his expression unreadable.

Hermione watched Lucius and Draco rise.

"This vow won't be in place forever, Mudblood, as soon as it comes off you'll wish you were never born," Draco snarled.

Voldemort turned to him. "Did I not tell you to go? Or do you want me to make _you_ wish you were never born?"

Draco bowed his head slightly and with an apology at his lord and a deadly glare at Hermione, he turned and left along with his father.

Without a word, Voldemort gripped her arm and Disapparated them to the bedroom. Once there, he let her go and stepped back with a questioning look on his face.

Hermione looked away and bit the inside of her lip, his visual scrutiny was making her writhe.

"How were you able to hit Malfoy?" he whispered finally.

Hermione swallowed, the sibilant tones of his whisper telling her she was on very thin ice.

"I don't know, he insulted me; I punched him, and I wasn't stopped."

"Be more specific, what did he say?" Voldemort snapped.

Then, Hermione remembered she still had to tell him of the realization she had come to. "Malfoy knows, I don't know how, but he knows about us. He was rubbing it into my face, and he called me a whore, and I was already angry because of you, and so when he kept calling me a slut and a Mudblood, I just . . . ." Hermione closed her hands into fists and bit her lip as she recalled her anger.

"How do you know he knows? Did he tell you directly or hint at it?" Voldemort said in a quiet tone.

Hermione let out a shrill and weak laugh. "Well, he did call me a fucking slut who was sleeping with her best friend's wannabe killer!" Her hands, which had been thrown up, landed with a clap on her thighs, "so I don't know, I mean it seems pretty direct to me!"

The Dark Lord threw her a dark look. "No need for such effrontery."

"No need for such a high and mighty attitude," Hermione snapped.

"_I _can afford that high and mighty attitude because I earned it," he countered, his tone matching hers to a tee. His hand grabbed her elbow roughly and pulled her towards him, "and just because you're sleeping with me doesn't mean you get to disregard that."

Hermione wanted to respond; however, she bit her tongue and looked away instead – there were times to pick fights and now was not one of them. She would save this incident though, deep within the file cabinet that was her mind, and pull it out when it was appropriate.

Hermione's eyes were pulled back to him by his low chuckle.

"You've learned to pick your fights," he said, white teeth shining.

"I learned from the best," Hermione said lightly.

His thin lips went back over his teeth, and then he smirked sideways while letting go of her arm.

"Well, at least you're no longer denying my influence."

He paced at the far end of the room in front of the double windows leading out to the balcony. His hands clasped behind his back, and his head bowed like a monk's.

"So far, there have been two incidents of you somehow overwriting the vow."

"Two incidents that you know of," Hermione added. How typical of him to assume that just because he didn't know of something, it didn't exist.

He looked up at her, his face stern. Her bravado wavered.

"I'm just saying that just because _you_ don't know of an incident doesn't mean it can't have happened," Hermione said earnestly.

His glare hardened, the witch could feel the ice under her feet beginning to crack.

"But in this case you're right, only two incidents have occurred," she admitted quickly.

He rolled his eyes, but continued his pacing after a loud and melodramatic sigh. "Last time you were able to hit me when we went to Order headquarters, but that was because you took my supposed betrayal personally, and the vow was made to alleviate business differences, not personal ones like those of people that are involved with each other." He stopped his pacing and turned to her.

"However, for this case, it doesn't seem to be that clear cut. Do you have any ideas why you could've been allowed to hit him, but him not you?"

Hermione shrugged and sat down on the bed. "Right now, I really don't, " she said in a dark voice, her disappointment palpable, "I tried to hit him twice. The first time I did get to punch him, but after that, I tried to continue hitting him only to be thrown back by the vow. Draco wasn't able to hit me at all, Lucius tried to hurt me as well, but he was also repelled by the vow."

Voldemort was silent. "I need you to figure this out," he finally whispered while turning to her, "this is a loophole I want patched, Dumbledore and his followers must not know of it."

Hermione was taken back. "You do know I'm not on your side, right?" she said quietly.

"You don't need a mark on your arm to be on my side," he countered, his muffled steps coming towards her.

Hermione looked up at him as he was now standing right over her. "Well, then why did you mark the Death Eaters? For aesthetic purposes?" She sneered.

He smirked. "I meant in your case, Miss Granger, you carry more of a mark than all my Death Eaters put together."

"I as well as Bellatrix," Hermione retorted, "if that's what you're going off."

"You would put yourself in the same category as Bellatrix?" he said, hairless eyebrows raised, "you consider yourself my fanatic, most loyal and obsessively enamored follower?"

Hermione's playful smile fell. "Stop turning the tables on me, you know that wasn't my angle."

"And how was I supposed to know what your angle was? Can't I have a different understanding of things?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at his innocent tone. "Honey, you're not even keeping a straight face."

A salacious smile over took his features as he bent down towards her. "I'm your honey now?"

Hermione couldn't keep the smile off her face as his face came closer to her. "My honey and my acid rolled into one."

He chuckled, their lips an inch away from each other. "I like that."

"Well then, you'd better start giving _me_ something _I_ like," she whispered as her hands went around the collar of his robes while her eyes fluttered close as soon as his warm lips landed on hers. Hermione fell back on the bed with him in tow, and she moaned as thousands of imaginary needles punctured her skin with a tingling sensation, a tingling that only went away with his touch.

She wrapped her hands around his neck so that she was pressing his mouth closer to hers, but also massaging the back of his neck with her fingertips and running her nails over it like he liked her to do. In response, he kissed her with renewed passion and slid his hand from under her bra to the valley between the two mountains that were her propped legs.

Hermione smirked when he brushed her lower lips and took his mouth off her upper ones.

"No panties, Ms. Granger?" he whispered breathless, eyes gleaming with lust.

"Putting them on makes no sense since I spend most of my time here without them," she replied with a smirk.

"Look at you, you dirty, dirty girl," he hissed before coming back down on her lips. This time he waved his hand over her robes and made them fly off her while doing the same to himself. Hermione removed her bra herself and sat up so she was straddling his lap. Her hands wound around his aroused member, which she started squeezing with twisting motions.

"Oh, Hermione," he moaned while taking her mouth once more as she continued to stimulate him. After a minute or two, however, Hermione was so aroused, she was aching to be tended to. "Let's do 69," she said breathless; in acquiescence, he laid down under her and waited for her to position herself over him.

"Oh, Hermione, you're dripping . . ." he said in lubricous tones as she took him in her mouth. From that point on, it was almost like a race or a competition to see who could bring the other off faster or to greater heights of pleasure. In the end, he made her come with a loud cry before switching their positioning so that she was on her back; she hadn't even come completely down from her orgasm when he slid in her causing Hermione to moan in delight, nostrils flaring at the welcome intrusion.

"Ohhh, Tom," she cried as he began thrusting into her.

The only noise in the room apart from her moans and cries, were the loud slapping of their eager and lustful thighs. However, just when their coupling was about to reach its high, there was a knock at the door which caused Hermione to tighten her hands around his biceps. He paused in his thrusting and looked back at the door briefly before looking back at her and picking up his pace once more.

"It's locked, it doesn't matter."

As soon as his dick plunged back into her cavern and started hitting her sweet spot, all worries were gone, and Hermione could have cared less about the person outside the door.

"Ah AH, TOM!" Hermione let out as the heat in her face intensified to an unbearable degree. Oh, she needed to come right now!

There was a knock on the door. "Tom?"

In shock, Hermione sunk her sharp nails into Voldemort's arm like a frightened cat. He hissed in pain and pulled his arms off her while getting up from the bed.

"Don't let him in here!" Hermione hissed while bringing the covers up to her neck.

He glared as he hastily put on a silk bathrobe laying in one of the chairs facing the fireplace. "Why would I bring Albus Dumbledore into my bedroom?" he hissed.

Hermione pursed her lips and made to get off the bed, maybe she should hide in the bathroom. However, before she could make it all the way there, he opened the door and greeted the headmaster.

"What?"

Hermione stopped her walking and froze in her spot as she looked back at Voldemort who had opened the door about ten inches, just enough for him to get his head out.

"Are you busy?" Dumbledore replied with a raised eyebrow while looking down at the Dark Lord's silk bathrobe.

"I'm always busy," Voldemort snapped. "Why is it you're here?"

"I need to speak with Hermione."

"She's out, she went to Diagon Alley," Voldemort said hastily, "owl her and tell her to owl you back as soon as she gets here." He started to close the door, but Dumbledore's hand stopped him.

"How long has she been gone for?"

"Since this morning. Good bye."

Once more he tried closing the door only to have Dumbledore actually push back the doorknob and keep the door from closing.

"What are you hiding, Tom?" Dumbledore said warily while gazing at him over his glasses.

"None of your business, now let go of my doorknob before I withdraw from your alliance." Voldemort made sure to meet Dumbledore's mockingly merry blue eyes with his reserved and furious red ones.

"Maybe I should be more specific," Dumbledore said, his tone gaining a steely edge, "and ask, _who _are you hiding?"

Voldemort raised an eyebrow and made to slam the door shut to complete the pretty picture in the headmaster's mind; however, the latter, in a very uncharacteristic move, forced the door open with a swoosh of his magic. The Dark Lord jumped out of the way as the door slammed on its hinges; his breath caught as the whole room was exposed to Dumbledore's perusing eyes including the girl on the bed. However, that girl wasn't Hermione. The Dark Lord clenched his jaw and his eyes widened slightly when the blonde "Jane" brought the sheets up over herself and looked flushed. She glanced sheepishly at Voldemort who was now beginning to smile. _Oh she was good, damn good. . ._ .

"Oh, I'm so –so sorry, miss," Dumbledore stuttered, the shocked look on his face making the Dark Lord smile even more widely.

"Are you done intruding upon my private life now, Albus?" Voldemort said, adding an extra side of snarkiness to his already patronizing tone. "Or are you so desperate for an in that you'll force your way into it?"

Dumbledore didn't respond verbally, but the sight of the headmaster bowing his head in shame and exiting the room quietly with his tail between his legs, more than made up for it. What's more, just because of that, the Dark Lord made sure to remember this day as one of the finest in his life.

"Not who you were expecting?" the Dark Lord said in an overtly sweet voice, arms crossed over his chest.

"Is she a Death Eater?"

"I don't just keep it in the fold, you know, I interact with many people."

"Please tell Hermione to come see me when she gets back," Dumbledore said lightly, his eyes not meeting the Dark Lord's.

"I'll be expecting you to make this up to me."

"I've done nothing wrong, and I owe you nothing," Albus said stiffly.

Voldemort raised both eyebrows and cocked his head to the side while crossing his arms over his chest. "Oh, so coming onto my property without notice, barging into my room and slamming a door into my face is not wrongdoing?"

"If it had been, the contract would've prevented it," the headmaster replied calmly.

"It's a wrongdoing if it irks me!"

"My existence irks you; however that doesn't mean that my being alive is wrong." Dumbledore gave him a condescending smile, eyes bright. "It amazes me how even though you are so gifted, you are more immature than all the first years put together."

"Just like your nerve never ceases to amaze _me_!" Voldemort snapped. His outburst was more a gut reaction than anything, and as soon as he said it, he regretted it.

A hint of a smile touched Dumbledore's lips; this tiny display of happiness and superiority caused the Dark Lord's senses to be inundated with ire.

"It's not polite to keep a lady waiting," the old man said before turning away and going back towards the fireplace. As he shut the door, Voldemort mentally promised himself retaliation at the old, impertinent man. It, however, would have to wait until after he was done with a certain lady . . . .

Jane was staring at him while hugging a pillow over her breasts.

"What took you?"

"Dumbledore and I had a little chat," he said just as he undid his silk bathrobe's tie so that it pooled on the floor. He smirked at seeing that even though Hermione was in Jane's body, her eyes were what gave her away: her alert and quick-bounding eyes that hopped from each point of interest on his body to the next.

"I didn't know you had a Polyjuice handy," he growled while sitting on the bed facing her, his arm sneaking around her body and pulling her towards him. "That was very smart of you, my sneaky little bunny . . . ."

"Maybe you shouldn't underestimate me," she whispered before shutting him up with a kiss and falling with him onto the bed.

Maybe before, Hermione would've asked the Dark Lord to change from the snake face to Tom's face, not really because of aesthetics, but because that way it was much easier for her to pretend he wasn't her side's sworn nemesis. However, now she had come to appreciate Voldemort's snake face for the thrill it gave her, the thrill of the forbidden and the unthinkable.

Their copulation went on for more time than either of them had anticipated; however, there was nowhere they'd rather be than receiving highs after highs from each other; they even continued fucking while she changed back from Jane to Hermione, and the brunette had to admit that those few seconds of pain mixed with pleasure were the best part of their entire union.

Finally, an hour later, they were both thoroughly fatigued and sated. Hermione closed her eyes as she felt him move off her and, with a slight creaking of the bed and rustling of the sheets, settle down next to her with a deep breath.

As soon as his eyes had closed as well, Hermione moved over to him and placed her head on his shoulder and her arm around his chest; he responded by bringing her closer to him, his lanky arm an ivory wreath around her upper body.

"You should probably contact Dumbledore before you fall asleep and forget," he said suddenly in raspy tones.

Hermione looked up at him. "Why?"

"Because he wants you to come see him so he can talk to you."

His eyes, which had been closed since the beginning of their conversation, once more fixed her with their ruby gaze.

"I wonder about what," Hermione muttered.

He smirked and closed his eyes once more while he turned away from her.

"Probably to tell you to quit, he was expecting to find you in my bed . . . it was lucky you were so quick on your feet. However, now I'm wondering if having him find you would've been so bad, it certainly would've saved you from having to break it off with Weasley."

"Don't say that," Hermione muttered sounding uncomfortable.

"You're not really going to marry him, are you?"

"I won't marry you."

"I never asked you to," he countered in an equally acerbic tone.

Hermione was silent. She finally shook her head and turned away from him.

"So that's it? You're not going to answer my question?" he went on.

Hermione hugged the pillow and fixed her gaze on the bergere chair in the corner. "I'm tired."

"Of him?"

"Of you."

There was a pregnant pause. "That's not a nice thing to say, Miss Granger," he finally said.

Hermione sniffed into her pillow and stifled a laugh. "Well, I'm not a very nice person."

"I wonder who you got that from . . . ."

Hermione couldn't keep the smile of her face as she rolled over to face his equally amused countenance.

"Well, I think it's pretty evident isn't it? That Hagrid! A bad influence he is."

A smile cracked his face.

"Indeed, that crazy hermit with his dangerous pet and skewed ideas."

Hermione smirked. "What can I say? I certainly have a type."

"And yet you're with Weasley … I never took you for one with a masochistic streak."

Hermione grimaced and shook her head while looking away from him and getting up from the bed.

"Truth hurts, doesn't it?"

"I was joking, Tom."

"And yet you are so deeply affected by my statement?" He had rolled sideways onto his elbow, head propped on his hand.

Hermione ignored him, she was busy putting on her pants and trying not to fall from doing it standing up.

"Hermione."

Said girl continued putting on her robes silently.

"Hermione!"

Her hair was next, a tight ponytail took care of that . . . .

"Ouch!" Hermione whipped around just as the book that had collided with her head seconds before, fell on the Persian carpet. She glared at the bed's occupant who was sitting there smirking haughtily with his arms crossed. "Tom, you don't throw a book at me! It could've taken my eye out!"

"Your head was turned away from me; that wouldn't have happened," he said sounding annoyed.

"I don't care! You don't throw hard objects at people's heads, Tom, you could really hurt them!"

"Well if they don't pay attention to me, they deserve it!" he snapped before turning brusquely away from Hermione and laying on his stomach, his head buried in a pillow.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "How old are you?" she muttered loudly while putting on her boots.

Swoosh! A pillow hit the back of her head, Hermione turned to glare at his pouting highness; however, the latter still had his face buried in his bedding.

_Well, I did say not to throw __**hard**__ objects at people . . ._Hermione thought as she decided not to comment further.

"I'm going to go see Dumbledore, I'll see you later."

As Hermione had guessed, she got no response from him. With one last eye roll, she closed the bedroom door and walked towards the fireplace.

"I swear, sometimes he makes me feel like a pedophile . . . ."

* * *

"Hermione, darling!" Molly called out as the brunette stepped out of the fireplace with a smile on her face.

"Molly . . ."

Mrs. Weasley pulled Hermione into one of her infamous bone-crunching hugs before stepping away from her and holding her at arm's length. She gasped. "You've lost weight!"

"Have I?" Hermione looked down at her body, she hadn't noticed any changes.

"Oh, Hermione, he's not feeding you well! But of course why would he? Leave it to Dumbledore to think you'd be taken care of by Him and his lot. I'm going to get you out of this, darling! You shouldn't put your health at risk!"

"Molly, I'm fine," Hermione said calmly, she made sure to meet the older woman's eyes, "I'm eating more than enough, and I feel healthy. Besides, I was a few pounds overweight; so it's good that I lost them."

_Voldemort will be glad_, Hermione thought, a couple of weeks ago he had informed her she was 10 pounds overweight and had put on her on a diet.

Molly scrunched up her face in horror. "Overweight? You? Oh please, look at your wrists, they're rail thin! And your cheeks are hollowed out –" Hermione felt a rush of happiness at this, her chubby childhood cheeks had always bothered her, "oh please don't tell me you have an eating disorder!"

Hermione squeezed the older woman's hands and smiled patiently.

"I'm fine, seriously. Where's Dumbledore?"

Molly continued to look worried; however, she didn't press the weight issue further.

"He had to go back to Hogwarts, but he told us to summon him when you arrived."

After she said this, the Weasley matron threw floo into the fireplace and called out the headmaster's name. She then turned to Hermione with a warm smile. "Let me bring you a slice of cake I made this morning . . . ."

"Oh no, I just ate," Hermione lied hurriedly, she did not want to be near any sort of baked goods because the temptation to break her diet would be too much. "I'll take some to go though," she added before Molly could protest.

"Fine, but you will be eating lunch with us," her tone held a note of finality, and Hermione knew it would be futile to protest.

"Can't wait," she said with a forced smile. Maybe she would break her diet just a little bit . . . after all, it's not like He was here.

Just when Molly disappeared in the kitchen, Dumbledore appeared out of the fireplace. Hermione smiled at him robotically and got up, she was taken back by the lack of twinkle or warmth on his eyes, and her smile wavered for brief seconds; however, she quickly put up her front again, there was no way he knew about the Polyjuice potion incident, Dumbledore must be bothered by something else.

"Hermione," he said quietly, and motioned for her to follow him into the conference room. The brunette did so, and even though the walk was short, the looming silence made it very awkward.

"Take a seat, please."

Hermione did so at the same as he. She made sure to keep her mind completely occluded as she watched him expectantly. Dumbledore remained quiet, he was staring at her for a few seconds, but then his eyes wandered off to Hermione's great relief.

"Is everything alright, professor?" she ventured to say.

Dumbledore sighed and looked back at her. "I got some very disturbing news today."

Oh crap. Hermione swallowed audibly. She wanted to ask what, but she was afraid that her voice would crack.

"It seems that Voldemort or some of his associates has found a way around the vow."

Hermione released her bated breath, relief supplanting the pounding in her head that the worry of being caught had created.

"In what way?"

"There's people going around the United States recruiting support for Voldemort, I don't know who or how or even if they're connected to Tom," Dumbledore's tone was hurried and exasperated, something that Hermione would've never associated with the headmaster, "because the vow said very clearly that Voldemort could not engage in any war-related acts behind our backs; so either he doesn't know about these people, or he has somehow found a way around the provision."

Hermione's eyes were narrowed; this was complete news to her as she hadn't seen him do anything even remotely suspicious.

"I haven't seen him meet with anyone other than the usual people in his inner circle," Hermione said soberly.

Dumbledore gazed at her intently. "What about a woman? A blonde?"

Once more, Hermione fought her panic down and tried to maintain a cool front.

"Narcissa is the only one . . ."

"This morning, where were you?"

"Diagon Alley," Hermione replied smoothly.

Dumbledore clenched his jaw at her answer and then continued. "I came to get you while you were away, and when I flooed to Tom's office, he had a blonde woman there with him. I asked him about her, but he avoided my question . . ."

Hermione nodded slowly, she was trying to not think too much about the implications of Dumbledore noticing Jane so that her face wouldn't flush and give her away.

"I've never seen her, I could keep an eye out from now on though," Hermione said.

Dumbledore nodded. "Please do," he mumbled while scratching his beard meditatively, "they can't have been talking about the war though, because the vow prevents them from it unless you're present, which you weren't," he glanced at Hermione who nodded, "so obviously she was just there for . . .personal reasons."

Hermione pursed her lips as the color rushed to her face. She didn't think it would look suspicious though, after all, for normal people it would be embarrassing to think of Voldemort in that way.

"I will discuss this at the meeting today, I summoned certain people for an emergency meeting," Dumbledore went on, "they should be here soon."

Hermione nodded and looked down.

"So how have you been?" Dumbledore asked, once more gazing down at her over his spectacles.

"Good," Hermione replied, "nothing much has been going on over there . . . ."

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, it's been slow for both of us . . . if only we could attack the ministry once and for all, that way we could do away with this Alliance."

Dumbledore looked away as he said this, his brow furrowed in thought. Hermione bit her lip, the silence was making her feel uncomfortable.

"So, how did you hear about this spy?" Hermione asked.

"My sources in the US," the headmaster mumbled, "they said there's a couple of people that have been going around lobbying in Voldemort's favor as well as gaining support. Now, my sources don't know about the Alliance, so they assumed that Voldemort had told these people to do this, but I honestly hope not," he sighed deeply, "because that would open up a can of worms since that would mean that he's found a way around the vow."

"So you're hoping that these people are just lobbying for him on their own? You think they're rogue sympathizers?"

Dumbledore widened his eyes and parted his hands in wonder. "I honestly don't know . . . all I know is we are going to need to focus on gaining more information before directly confronting Voldemort."

"Wouldn't that be against the vow though?" Hermione asked.

"We are collecting information to find out if he has gone around the vow, that's allowed," Dumbledore said, "besides, we will only be gaining this information, not using it against him."

Hermione nodded. "So, how are you going to keep Bellatrix from finding out about your research and telling him?"

"Only select people will be told, this is highly classified information, Hermione," Albus said seriously, "if Tom asks, tell him you were giving me an update and make sure you keep your Occlumentic walls up."

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Dumbledore looked up, as did Hermione.

"Come in," Albus said.

Hermione watched as Harry, Kingsley and Tonks entered, they all sat down quietly facing Albus. Hermione grinned at Harry who nodded his head with a small smile, his expression remained sober after that.

"Welcome Kingsley, Harry and Tonks . . . thank you for coming on such short notice," Albus said quietly, "as I was just telling Ms. Granger, I have chosen you five to carry out a classified mission. I have gotten intelligence that there are different people going around the US gaining support for Voldemort," Hermione watched as the three faces of the newcomers became more serious at this, "I have a list of names here, that these people have used along with a physical description; however, we shouldn't rely too much on these because this person or these people could be using Polyjuice potion to throw everyone off their track."

Hermione glanced at the list of names that Dumbledore handed her as he continued explaining about the situation. She glanced through the names, and even though she knew there was no way that Jane's name would appear, she still scanned over the list quickly to make sure. Thankfully, however, her suspicions were misconstrued. Hermione passed on the list to Tonks who practically ripped it out of her hand.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her. _Bitch. _She honestly hoped she wouldn't have to work with Tonks as she was sure she would blow her brains out by the end of the day.

_Strange, how you're saying that about a fellow Order member, yet looking forward to getting back to the Dark Lord._

"Tonks, you and Harry will be working together in the States," Dumbledore was saying, "I've got friends there that will help you and house you while you collect information. I need to know who these people are."

"Kingsley, your job will be to keep the ministry from tracking Harry and Tonks, I need them to be absolutely untraceable, I can't risk Voldemort finding out about this mission through his ministry spies."

The man nodded in understanding as the headmaster turned to Hermione.

"You will keep at your post, just be sure to look out for signs of these spies from now on."

Hermione nodded in understanding.

"Good." Dumbledore sighed, "then let's call it for today and go get some lunch." He smiled warmly and patted Hermione on the back as he got up and swept past them and out the room.

Trying hard not to blush, Hermione nervously made her way towards Harry who had been sharing a few words with Tonks before excusing himself and going to meet his friend.

"Hey." Hermione hugged him; she didn't know why, but she had really missed him this time around. Although she had to admit embracing him was a little awkward since not that long ago she had been doing the same with his mortal enemy.

"How are you?" Harry asked.

"Good… good," Hermione said and crossed her arms, "what about you?"

Harry shrugged and sniffed darkly. "Well, Dumbledore's plans is backfiring on us and, in turn, helping Voldemort who we were supposed to be fighting against; so, yeah I'm not doing too well."

Hermione pressed her lips together, brow furrowed.

"Well, we don't know for sure if this is Voldemort's doing though . . . it might just be rogue, wannabe Death Eaters. Plus, there is no way he could go around that clause of the vow, it very specifically said he could conduct no business without us knowing," just as Harry opened up his mouth to contradict her, Hermione threw up her hands and went on, "and in the extremely unlikely event that he somehow found a loophole, I'm living with him, Harry, I would know if he was meeting with people or getting strange messages."

"And how do you know what he does after you go to bed?" Harry asked brusquely making Hermione's breath catch in her chest. "He could very well be carrying out his business after you go to sleep."

"The vow, Harry," Hermione said as she quickly regaining her composure.

Harry scrunched up his face and shook his head while raising his hand to protest Hermione's assurances. "No, Hermione, I don't trust him to not have found a way around the vow already, he's incredibly crafty like that, the wretched snake, I can't believe Dumbledore is underestimating him so . . . see, even though you are living with him, I have been connected with him all these years, I know him better than you."

Hermione pursed her lips and looked away briefly at this.

" –which is why I think we should end this Alliance right now, it's not going to work in our favor."

"Have you told Dumbledore?" Hermione asked, even though she knew the answer.

"All the time, but he refuses to take anyone's advice when it comes to his Alliance." Harry snubbed the front of his shoe against the carpet in a frustrated gesture. Hermione swallowed and looked away while biting her pinkie nervously, she felt so guilty at this moment; even though by sleeping with the Dark Lord, she wasn't helping the latter defeat Harry, she still, for some reason, felt like she was contributing to Harry's pain.

"But whatever, you must deal with enough grief on a daily basis, I don't want to give you my burdens as well." Harry smiled warmly, his eyes almost as aged as those of his lemon-drop loving mentor.

Quietly, they walked back out to the main dining room where Tonks, Kingsley and Albus were already seated.

Harry and Hermione sat down at the table just as Mrs. Weasley started bringing out the first course.

"I made something a little different today, this is a Spanish tortilla." She placed her egg and onion creation in the center of the table.

"It smells amazing," Hermione said while trying to hide her worry . . . it smelled so good . . . oh, but it was fried! However, there were no carbs since the eggs are proteins and the onions, greens . . . .Before Molly could slice up half the pie and place it on her plate, Hermione reached for her knife and fork and cut out a modest portion.

"Dear, get some more! I know I haven't made it before, but I tried it and it tasted really good."

"No! No, I know it's going to be amazing," Hermione said quickly, "it's just I already ate this morning; so I'm not so hungry."

Molly shook her head, a worried look on her face. "But darling –!"

Before she could start her tirade, Molly looked up towards the door and froze; as soon as Hermione saw her wide eyes, she knew who was at the door frame. Immediately, she turned around along with everyone else at the table.

Voldemort smirked in greeting as he leaned against the door frame.

"I hope I'm not interrupting . . . ." He pushed himself off the frame and waltzed towards them. Hermione threw a glance at Harry who was gripping the arm of the chair so hard, his neck vein was pulsing.

"What do you need, Tom?" Albus asked in a tired voice.

"I have to start a meeting right now, and since I need adult supervision at all times . . . "

Hermione grasped her hands in her lap as he came close to her; to her utter surprise, she felt his hand land on her shoulder and give it a strong squeeze as he finished his sentence.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to take Ms. Granger, here."

Hermione gasped as Harry's chair fell back with a clatter as he stood up.

"Don't you dare touch her!"

Voldemort's thin lips tugged up in their corners. "Why? Because you want to touch her?"

Hermione parted her lips noisily and glared up at Him while brushing his hand off her shoulder and getting away from him.

"What? No!" Harry snapped, his face red. Before he could continue, he was interrupted by the Dark Lord.

"Well then why are you getting jealous, Harry? You know you can't block your mind from me . . . oh I wonder how Ronald will react when he finds out his best friend has a crush on his fiancée."

"Shut up!" Harry yelled at him. "You're making all this up!"

Voldemort clucked his tongue at him and crossed his arms.

"Tom, stop it," Albus said, his voice raised and icy. "Take Hermione and go."

Molly spoke up at this. "No! You can't just send her off to get rid of him! She needs to eat, he's been starving her!"

"That's harsh, Molly darling," commented Voldemort, his hand on his chest in a pained gesture.

Thanks to the courage that Mrs. Weasley got every time she went into mother hen mode to protect her chicks, she was able to angrily look at the Dark Lord straight in his amused, red eyes.

"She's not leaving until she eats a hearty meal and that's final."

Voldemort chuckled, it started low and deep in his throat and began to rise as he went towards the matron in slow and calculated steps. Hermione could see Molly's bravado wavering as the Dark Lord closed the distance between them. Almost as if he anticipated Harry's moves, Voldemort waved his hand towards him and strapped him down to his chair right before the boy was about to jump off and attack him.

Surprisingly enough, Dumbledore remained in his seat, his intrigued eyes fixed on the Dark Lord; he seemed to be ready to intervene if necessary; however, he like Hermione, seemed to want to know where this was going.

"You dare defy me?" the Dark Lord whispered, he was standing barely a couple of inches from the red headed woman who was as pale as the plates their now cold meals were on. Voldemort towered over the stocky woman, and Hermione could only imagine how frightened Mrs. Weasley must be; however, she surprised everyone by standing her ground.

"Only if Hermione's health is involved."

If the Muggleborn was feeling guilty before, it was nothing to how she felt now. Her future mother-in-law was practically risking her life for her . . . .

There was silence after Molly's silent statement during which the Dark Lord's eyes mulled the woman over, Hermione was holding her breath just like everyone else in the room; even Harry had stopped yelling threats.

Finally, The Dark Lord smiled and began laughing while backing off. With each step he took away from the matron, the tension in the room seemed to lift.

"Very well, lunch it is." He surprised them all by conjuring a chair between Hermione's and Dumbledore's and sitting down at the table, "and while we're on the topic of Hermione's health, she will not be having this," he took away Hermione's tortilla and set it in front of Harry before addressing the latter. "There, this way I assure myself that if you don't die by my hand, you will die from clogged arteries."

"Molly, Hermione will have a salad as an entrée, you can mix an egg in to it, but it will have to be whites only. No salt, and a dash of olive oil. As for the main course," he lifted the lid of the pot filled with stew and boiled potatoes, sighed and covered it back up, "this will not do. She will have grilled salmon with steamed vegetables."

"I will have some of the mashed potatoes though," Hermione said.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at her; however, Hermione stood her ground.

"Fine," he finally said, "but you will eat an apple for dessert."

Hermione sighed wistfully at the delicious chocolate cake sitting on the counter, but nodded. "Fine."

"Fine," he said in a brighter tone while sitting down next to her. Everyone else was still standing in shock; Hermione didn't expect Molly to actually follow through with Voldemort's orders, but the woman seemed to have understood that she needed to give in some since he had agreed to let Hermione stay for lunch. So, with a look of discontent and slightly pursed lips, she rushed back in the kitchen.

"So, how have all of you been?" Voldemort grinned at the tables' occupants while serving himself some water from the pitcher.

* * *

Ginny had just come from Draco's place from where she had received his urgent summon. The emergency, it seemed, was to hear him venting about Hermione who had broken his nose earlier that day, and even though she had gotten Draco's side of the story, Ginny still knew he was overreacting: he could be quite a little drama queen; however, she had to act supportive. The one thing Ginny was worried about; however, was Draco having revealed to Hermione that he knew about her and the Dark Lord. Ginny figured Hermione must've told Voldemort already, and even though he hadn't made Draco promise to not reveal his knowledge to Hermione like he had with Ginny, she was still worried that her boyfriend might've dug himself into a deeper hole than he thought.

Ginny sighed as she arrived at Grimmauld Place's threshold and started looking for the key in her pocket, she was determined to take a warm bath to help her think. However, it seemed that misery followed her wherever she went because just when she opened the door, she was welcomed by a racket coming from the dining room to her left.. She could make out Harry's voice as well as Voldemort's and the headmaster's . . . her mother's too as well as that of others . . . .

Briefly, Ginny wondered if the commotion was due to the Order finding out about Hermione's and Voldemort's affair. That of course would be a good thing for her because it would save her from worrying over Draco's wellbeing unless . . . unless he was somehow involved. Ginny swallowed and rushed into the room, not being able to take her paranoid thoughts any longer.

"- WE ARE STILL FORCED TO HIDE HERE, SITTING ON OUR ASSES WHILE HOPING FOR AN UPDATE ON THE SITUATION FROM YOU OR HERMIONE, A SITUATION THAT FOR THE PAST SIX MONTHS HASN'T CHANGED! AND ON TOP OF THAT, WE NOW HAVE TO DEAL WITH HIM COMING HERE AND INSTIGATING US, I MEAN COME ON DUMBLEDORE!" A frustrated Harry threw his arms up to emphasize his point.

"Harry, it wouldn't make sense to end the Alliance now when, as you pointed out, we've earned nothing, we have to give it some time –"

"Earned nothing?" Voldemort, who was standing next to a worried looking Hermione, crossed his arms and reclined on the heels of his boots, "so the trip I took to France to buy the minister's neutrality in this war was for what? Your detriment?"

Both Harry and Dumbledore glanced at the Dark Lord briefly,but didn't acknowledge his input as they continued their heated conversation.

Ginny saw the Dark Lord's temper beginning to flare up by the intensity with which he was looking at both his nemeses, it was almost like he was trying to burn a hole through the sides of their heads for daring to ignore him. Just when Ginny was about to say something so as to prevent the impending tragedy, she saw Voldemort turn his head an inch and his features relax slightly. Ginny followed his movement and noticed Hermione, who had been standing behind him, give his hand a squeeze. It was a brief show of support; they let go almost immediately, however it was surprisingly effective in assuaging the Dark Lord's wrath. Ginny looked away hurriedly and looked around to make sure no one had seen; however, everyone else seemed to be absorbed with Dumbledore and Harry's repartee.

"Harry," Hermione spoke up suddenly while walking through the crowd and towards the boy who had calmed down somewhat, but still looked extremely unhappy. "Dumbledore's right, if we pull out now we will have wasted all these months of work. Besides, like he said," she acknowledged the Dark Lord with a nod, "we accomplished a lot by gaining the French minister's neutrality. Something which we wouldn't have been able to get without the right connections, and if that had been the case, we would've already been prison because there would've been no way that we could've competed with two countries' armies." Hermione paused and grabbed Harry's hands, "Harry, there's about 30 of us . . . we don't stand a chance against a complete Auror force, there is absolutely no way we would've lasted past a few hours if Scrimgeour had allied with Gagnon, and even if we were to break off the Alliance now and go head to head with Scrimgeour alone, there would be no chance of us coming out on top. "

"Well, if we're such an insignificant force, then why would Scrimgeour seek an alliance with France? Why couldn't he just take us on himself in the first place?" Harry said irritated.

Voldemort scoffed. "That's because you're not the main target, boy, I am, the fight is between Scrimgeour and I, the only reason why your insignificant little club is in this fight is because of your involvement with me."

Harry whipped around toward Albus. "So then that's another great reason why we should end this arrangement!"

Before Dumbledore could respond, Voldemort laughed coldly. "Oh, Harry, taken one too many blows to the head? No wonder Dumbledore has you cooped up in here rather than entrust you with any missions –" Harry's eyes flared, and he opened his mouth only to find his voice gone at the Dark Lord's hand wave, "don't ever interrupt your superiors, Harry. Maybe I didn't make myself clear enough before; so I will make it real nice and simple for your Neanderthalian mindset: your Order is dependent on me for protection. The only reason why you and all your little friends aren't rotting in Azkaban is because of your involvement with me. Albus, here," the Dark Lord waved towards the headmaster, "old as he is, still possesses all the cunning of his younger days. He knew as soon as he and his Order of the Phoenix were declared rogue enemy factions by the ministry, that he wouldn't stand a chance fighting the ministry on his own. He needed an ally." Voldemort smiled at the headmaster whose expression had gone very guarded, clearly this was all information he would've rather kept to himself. "He went to Madame Maxime in hopes of using her to gain French backing; however, he soon realized that because of Maxime's half- breed status, her input would be ignored. Next, he tried going to Germany and using his defeat of Grindelwald as leverage to seek their favor. However, the Germans were smart enough to identify Scrimgeour as a bigger threat than an ailing old man; so he was turned away from them as well which left him with no other option than to turn to me."

Voldemort smirked before going on. "You see it was either me or Scrimgeour, the two biggest kids on the block. Albus knew he and his Order were the wimpy little kid with no chance at fighting both big boys; so he did the only thing he could and sought to come under the umbrella of my protection via this Alliance. It would come at a very high price in the form of information which I would be a privy of, however, it was either that or being beaten to a pulp by Scrimgeour in milliseconds."

Finally, he turned to Harry whose face had gone rigid, eyes wide. "So you see Harry, being in this fight because of your ties with me is actually a good thing, because if you were to sever those ties and step out from my umbrella of protection, Scrimgeour would take you out of the fight like that." He snapped his fingers.

The silence that followed fell on the room's inhabitants like a thick and heavy blanket, one which was close to suffocating them.

"Is this true?" Harry asked the headmaster as the blanket was slightly peeled back.

Dumbledore looked around at everyone before nodding. "Yes, there was no other option."

Gasps and murmuring followed as the people realized just how vulnerable they really were. Ginny felt guilt pulling at her heart, she had been cursing the headmaster ever since Voldemort told her he knew about Hermione's affair and had kept it quiet so as to not hurt the Alliance. However, now she once more looked at the headmaster in a favorable light because she realized that his commitment to the Alliance wasn't for vanity or boastful pride as Voldemort had led her to believe, but because Dumbledore knew their lives depended on it. It had all been for the greater good. Ginny felt like crying at that moment because she knew there would come a day when she would have to turn her back on him for Draco and the dark side.

"You should've told us," Ginny told her professor quietly.

He shook his head. "I didn't want to worry you . . . ."

"So now that you all realize what's at stake, I would be nicer to me in the future," Voldemort went on, his face split in two from the giant grin on his face.

Ginny noticed that Hermione was not partaking in his joy.

"You have a lot to gain by this; so stop acting like you're God's gift to us," Harry said bitingly.

"Yes, but I also don't have anything to lose which is more than I can say for you."

"You know what, we have a meeting to go to, and we've already kept everybody waiting close to an hour; so we should get going," Hermione said loudly before an irate Harry could put in his two cents. She even grabbed the Dark Lord's forearm and gave a strong tug to emphasize her point, but just then Mrs. Lestrange chose to show up in the room. As soon as the attention shifted to Voldemort and Bellatrix, the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. Everything went quiet as another layer of tension was added to the already teetering cake.

"My Lord, I was just about to go see you," Bellatrix said, her eyes, which had been shining as she addressed her lord, turned to two pits of lava as soon as they landed on Hermione.

Voldemort contemplated her for a few seconds before addressing the crowd.

"If we could please have the room."

Slowly people started fling out; however, Harry remained.

"You can't boss us around in our own territory. If you want to have your meeting, go back to your place."

"Harry," Dumbledore started before being interrupted by the Dark Lord.

"You know what, Potter?" his previously controlled voice gained an edge of steel, "I wasn't bossing anyone around with my previous request, I was being polite because I didn't want to put up with your whining had I told you to get the fuck out. But since common niceties don't work on you, I'll make sure to go with my first instinct next time, now go!"

Before Harry could keep protesting, Dumbledore had gripped his arm and pulled him out of the room followed by Hermione who, Ginny noticed, glanced rather unhappily at Voldemort and Bellatrix before filing out.

It was clear to her that Hermione was worried about the possibility of them sleeping together, and even though it disturbed Ginny to think of Hermione as being so possessive of the Dark Lord, it perturbed her even more to think that the two in the room could be having sex. Ginny had already moved out of her room and into the attic after convincing her disbelieving mother that her bedroom was haunted (and in a way it was haunted, haunted with memories); so if she declared the dining room haunted as well, she was sure her next move would be to an asylum.

* * *

"My lord," Bellatrix began as soon as the door had been closed and the appropriate silencing charms placed. "I have some very interesting information."

"Will you be allowed to divulge it though? There is a vow in place . . . ." Voldemort crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side.

Bellatrix face fell slightly, it was clear she had forgotten about that.

"I should at least try."

"You're the one who's going to face the repercussions, not me so go ahead."

With a sigh, Voldemort sat down at one of the chairs surrounding the abandoned dinner table and reached out for his glass of water.

"I found out my nephew and Ginny Weasley are together." As soon as she finished, the woman beamed, clearly thinking she had somehow gone around the vow. "Plus, he's been passing information to her."

Voldemort wanted to point out the obvious, but decided to humor her. He placed his elbow on the table and raised his forearm so that his head could rest on his palm.

"Really?" He made sure to raise his hairless browbones and widen his eyes in fake surprise.

"Yes," Bellatrix beamed, eye shining. "I saw them at my sister's house, talking."

"About?"

He noticed Bellatrix's pleased countenance darkened considerably after his question.

"Your lordship and the mudblood."

"Oh really? And what were they saying?" _This might actually go somewhere_, Voldemort thought as his interest level rose.

"Oh just gossip and stupid assumptions," Bellatrix replied hurriedly, clearly hoping to get off the topic.

"I won't ask again, Bella."

"They were discussing the possibility of you marrying her. Weasley was saying how she thought you weren't using the Mudblood solely to get back at the Order because of the care you were taking to keep everything under wraps. I spoke with Weasley after I found out she knew of your lordship's plan, and I threatened her so she would keep her mouth shut and not blab to her Order members."

"Wonderful initiative, I'm sure that made an impact," he replied sarcastically. Unfortunately, his not so positive tone was lost on Bellatrix, as it often was.

"I am glad you think that, my lord," Bellatrix went on, "I only wanted to protect your plan, especially when it's working so well, Weasley doesn't even think you are using Hermione for information anymore; so now it will be easier for you to gain more. It was a wonderful play, my lord, wonderful."

The Dark Lord gave her a calculating gaze before answering. "Actually, because of the vow I am unable to collect information from Hermione. So, Weasley is right."

He was lying, obviously, since the vow he and Dumbledore had taken allowed Voldemort to passively gain information throughout the length of the Alliance (so long as he didn't use it until said Alliance was over), but Bellatrix didn't need to know that. What he did want her to know, however, was that she should release that last bit of hope she had concerning a romantic relationship with him.

Finally, he saw her joyous countenance falter a bit.

"What do you mean, my lord . . . if I may ask," she added hurriedly.

"I think I worded it pretty clearly. " He lifted his head of his palm and brought the latter down on the table. "I am not with Hermione for the information."

A heavy silence settled as Bellatrix's worst fears were confirmed. She held herself up pretty well though, he had to say, her emotions were put on a leash almost as soon as they were let out.

"So it's just physical, then?"

"No," he said quietly, "it's more."

The heavy silence fell again as Bellatrix stared in shock.

"Why is this affecting you so, Bella?" he went on silently, "who I choose to be involved with is none of your concern, you did after all promise me last time that we had a strictly business relationship."

"My lord," Bellatrix gasped, "it's not that I am jealous, but you can't be seriously considering her, she's a mudblood!"

"Yet she pleases me more than you ever have!" he snapped.

And it was then that for the first time in the twenty years he'd known Bellatrix Lestrange, he saw something in her eyes he'd never seen directed towards him before: anger.

"All she and her kind care about is getting pureblood cock so they can better their filthy bloodlines! I, on the other hand, love you! I have done and would do everything for you, anything you asked, yet you dare compare me with that Mudblood bitch?"

His surprise at her reaction quickly morphed into murderous rage at her impudence. Such was his rage, that he didn't even reach for his wand. Instead, he backhanded her across the face with such strength, that she went flying across the floor.

"Your impudence knows no limits!" he shrieked as he went over to his follower who was still on the floor; however, she had sat up. "I have given you more chances and preferential treatment than everyone else throughout all these years, and this is how you repay me? BY WALKING ALL OVER ME, YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT!"

"My lord, what has she done to you?" she wailed while trying to get up; however, he waved his wand at her viciously.

"Crucio!"

She landed back on the floor, limbs shaking and flailing uncontrollably. She was quiet however, having built up quite a tolerance as well as a love for the curse; however, her silence would not do it this time. So, with his anger renewed, he moved his wand closer to her to increase the intensity of the curse and elicit screams from her.

She wouldn't do it though, damn her! She moaned louder, but she would not give him the satisfaction. Through the glaringly red haze in his mind, an idea made its way, what if she was enjoying it? She did have that pesky masochistic streak in her. With a growl of frustration, he swiped his wand to the side and brought the curse to an end. Fine, if she would not break through his curses, she would do so through his barrage of words.

"If I had known how weak you would turn out to be, I wouldn't have wasted my time with you. You have disappointed me more than I thought possible," he snapped, "that's another area in which you hardly to compare to Ms. Granger, she has given me nothing other than pleasant surprises, so far, and she's smart enough to know to keep that coming, unlike you I am now realizing."

"She is nothing other than a filthy Mudblood, and I can't believe you're actually considering her!" Bellatrix snapped, eyes shining with rage. "You rallied us through the call for blood purity, and now you're throwing that out the window for this new whore you've found yourself?"

"That whore will be my wife soon," he replied icily while relishing in the tightness of the jaw and flaring of the nostrils that his statement had elicited in her. After all, she had asked to fill that position many times throughout the years, and the fact that a Mudblood had achieved that in a matter of months, was eating away at her with murderous envy.

"But that doesn't matter," he replied, his tone light albeit contained, "not to you anyway, because it's not like you'll be around when that happens."

He had clasped his hands behind his back with his wand in between them while he zigzagged his way to her with deadly calmness.

* * *

They had been in there almost fifteen minutes, and even though it really wasn't that long, Hermione was still tapping her foot impatiently and glancing at the door. A lot of the people had left, only she, Ginny, Mrs. Weasley and Dumbledore as well as Harry were left.

_What could they possibly be doing? He wouldn't do anything with her, would he?_ She didn't think he would as he had always assured her he was done with Bellatrix. However, he was a man . . . oh but what did she even care? Hermione felt like slapping herself, it's not like they were in a relationship. Theirs was just something physical; so it would actually be a good thing if he screwed Bellatrix because that would confirm the informality of their relationship.

_But if she comes out here gloating and looking like she had the fuck of her life, I will rip his dick off._

"You know maybe we should check in on them, how do you know they're not planting listening devices and things?" Mrs. Weasley asked worriedly.

Dumbledore twisted his mouth to the side slightly as he considered this and then finally, stepped towards the closed door.

Hermione stepped aside as he came and moved back where the other two women were standing.

"Tom, you've had enough time in there. We need the room," Dumbledore said loudly. He paused for a few seconds and then reached for the knob to turn it when the door was wrenched open making everyone outside jump in shock as Bellatrix rushed out, wand in hand.

"Fucking bitch!" Hermione heard Voldemort curse from inside the room; he was panting slightly and sounded hurt. "Don't let her out!"

Of course, everyone was too in shock to follow his instructions, and so his order was answered by the door slamming loudly as his ex-follower narrowly escaped death.

Hermione rushed into the room after Dumbledore where they found the Dark Lord hunched over the edge of the table which he was clutching. Hermione had to use all her willpower to stop herself from running over to him.

"What happened?" she asked in a high voice while looking over at Dumbledore who seemed to have no intention of moving closer to Voldemort, that of course would've given her an excuse to do so.

"That stupid whore," he muttered along with other insults and curses while clutching the table and his side. "and it's all your fault!" he snapped while briefly looking up at Dumbledore, "She would've been dead by now if you hadn't come knocking and made me lose my focus, you worthless bag of bones!"

As soon as he finished speaking, he bit his bottom lip and clenched his teeth to contain the pain this caused him.

"Hermione, we go," he said in a tense voice.

She didn't need him to tell her twice as she quickly, but not too quickly, went to his side.

"Tom, what happened with Bellatrix?" Dumbledore asked.

"None of your business," the Dark Lord snapped.

"Is she coming back?"

"Probably not, why do you even care?" the Dark Lord let out sounding frustrated, Hermione tightened her jaw, she didn't know what he had been hit with; however, he was having trouble speaking without feeling pain.

"Well, because we need to have someone from your side here or the vow will prevent us from meeting."

"I'll send someone later."

"Make sure it's no later than tonight, though," Albus said finally.

"Fine," Voldemort grumbled before turning to Hermione. "We'll floo back."

Hermione nodded, her worry increasing: he must be really hurt if he didn't even have the strength to Apparate.

"Hermione, when are you coming back?" Molly called out, "you didn't even get to see Ron, and he's going to be home from work in an hour or two."

"I'll come back on Sunday for Valentine's," Hermione said quickly before turning her attention to the Dark Lord who had already stepped into the fireplace, and a second later, gone from sight.

"Hermione, stay," Mrs. Weasley insisted.

Before Hermione could turn this offer down, however, Dumbledore stepped in for her.

"No, Molly, she can't stand him up like that. After all, Hermione's the one that will face the repercussions, and if she angers him, he might not let her come back for Valentine's day."

"I'll see you all on Sunday," Hermione said in a brief goodbye while stepping into the fireplace, "Dark Lord's office, Riddle Mansion."

The swirling colors that followed nauseated Hermione who quickly shut her eyes and hoped that her stomach would make it to her destiny in one piece.

Suddenly, the noise stopped and Hermione knew she had arrived. She opened her eyes and rushed out towards His bedroom. Hermione swallowed when she saw that his bedroom door was ajar as it was very uncharacteristic of him: Voldemort always closed the doors of the rooms he was in, his privacy was his utmost priority after all.

When she went in the room, she found him laying on the bed. He had taken his robes off so that he was only in his pants.

"What took you?" he mumbled.

"What happened to you?" Hermione asked as she came over to him quickly, she couldn't see clearly because the lights were off and the curtains drawn.

"Bellatrix used the organ twisting curse. I need painkillers, lots of them while I wait for it to run its course."

"Where do you keep them?" Hermione asked, she could see no injury on his spotless chest; however, she could only imagine the pain he was in. After all, having you organs twisting inside you was an excruciating visual to even imagine.

"The cabinet by the door, top shelf." Instantly, his face twisted into a scowl and his speech faltered as another wave of torturous cramps washed over him. "I am going to kill that stupid, filthy, mother –"

"Don't talk, it only makes it worse," Hermione said as she came back with the vial, "try to relax, otherwise your muscles will cramp up as well along with your organs. Drink half of it."

He ignored her advice and downed the entire thing.

"I want to sleep through this," he replied to her protests, "otherwise, I'll get a migraine."

"Fine," Hermione said while drawing out her wand and using it to pull back the covers he had laid on. She then arranged them over him. "You need anything else?"

He shook his head. "I'm fine. Where will you be?"

"Probably at the library or in my room, I might take a nap as well. Just call for me when you wake up."

He sighed and pulled the covers up to his neck while closing his eyes briefly. Hermione sat up from the side of the bed and walked towards the exit.

"Hermione."

She stopped at the door and looked back at him.

"If anyone asks where I am, tell them I went to Knockturn Alley. "

She nodded briefly. "Okay," and went out silently, the knob clicking in place.


	13. Chapter 13

Faster update than the last one, right guys? Reward me with comments!

Thanks to: Patricia de Lioncourt, Kit, Just Tori, moregoth, Nerys, pixie muses, mad-bout-horses-nd-cowboys, solas divided, gsalilsecret, magentasouth, alannalove1990, merryxgirl, sweet-tang-honey, anon, kayellis, missimpossible, darkness-lightness, armanifan101, M3dusa, purpleemily, POM french reader, Lk-Hogwarts-Head-Girl, David Boreanaz's wife247, Serpent in Red, and Inkfire.

Enjoy :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make money from these writings.

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After leaving Voldemort in his room, Hermione spent a few hours in the main library before going back to her room and taking a hot bath. There were a lot of things on her mind that she needed to work out on her own.

With a sigh and a relaxed smile, she slid in the water all the way to her chin. Oh, she and Ron needed to get a Jacuzzi tub like this, it was so nice to have those jets of water hitting her back in strategically tense areas.

"Would Mistress like some salts?" her elf Deepti squeaked making Hermione open her eyes and turn her head slightly towards the kind looking creature holding a vial of lilac colored bath salts.

"Sure."

Hermione closed her eyes once more when the smell of lavender infused her senses, she could hear the stream of salt pebbles splashing against the water.

"Thank you," Hermione said with a smile.

"Are the mistress and master going to be dining later?"

"Maybe, I don't know," Hermione told her, "if we do decide to eat something it will probably be something small; so you can tell the cooking elves they don't need to worry about preparing a feast."

Deepti nodded and with a small bow, walked out of the room leaving Hermione alone with her thoughts.

Today, she had had bestowed upon her a lot of worrisome information: first there was the possibility of Voldemort having gone around the vow and recruiting supporters abroad; then came the news that the Order was actually dependent on the Dark Lord for protection, and then Bellatrix mysteriously decided to make a break for it.

What had happened? Hermione wondered, he had obviously tried to kill her which is why she inhibited him and ran off, but what happened to cause this shift in her fanatic love for him? It couldn't have been about her, Hermione thought, because even though Bellatrix had an inkling of her relationship with Voldemort, there was no way that she would believe that her Lord would throw her aside for Hermione, and from what had Ron had told her a few months back, Bellatrix thought that _she _was trying to seduce the Dark Lord!

"Right, because there is no way that the great Dark Lord would ever sully himself with a Muggle," Hermione muttered sarcastically. Clearly, Bellatrix was so blinded by her love for Voldemort, that she would come up with excuses to explain away anything that she didn't want to believe in. However, if a certain Lord told her . . . that would be harder for her to explain away.

Hermione's eyes widened slightly.

_He must've told her about us, and knowing Bellatrix, she will probably be out looking for blood, specifically my blood!_

Hermione instantly looked back at the locked door as a blanket of paranoia fell over her. As expected, the door remained shut and the room silent. With a disgruntled groan, Hermione got out of the tub, the silence which had moments ago soothed her, was now suffocating her as her paranoia made her feel extremely vulnerable and isolated.

Quickly, she put on a lacy babydoll dress she used for sleeping and tied a silk night robe around herself before exiting her room and then pausing at the door. Where would she go? The house was completely empty except for Him and the house elves

. . . and Wormtail, but he was out of the question.

The house elves, nice and cute as they were would probably not be able to protect her from a raging psychopath like Bellatrix; so that only left one option.

Quickly, Hermione started walking down the corridor back to his room. She never recalled having been this paranoid, it was horrible! Hugging herself, the brunette pushed open the door to his study making sure to lock it after herself; she did the same to his bedroom door once she was in his room. Silently, Hermione walked over to the bed; she could hear his silent breathing as he slept peacefully. Thankfully, he was already sleeping on one side of the mattress with plenty of space for her left (this was good because Hermione didn't think he would be in a very good mood if she woke him up and told him to move over.)

Being as silent as she could muster, she laid down next to him making sure to keep her back to him.

_There_, Hermione thought while pulling the blankets up to her neck, _now I'm as safe as I'm going to be._

With a sigh, she closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind from frantic thoughts so as to evoke sleep; however, said thoughts were bent on staying and would not be forced out of the territory they had claimed as theirs.

_What if she tells Ron?_

Hermione held her breath and her eyes snapped open at this new alarming possibility.

_What if she tells Ron about Voldemort and I? That would be an easier way of getting back at me . . . ._

_But no, they wouldn't believe her_, Hermione countered, _she was after all known to be unstable and wildly jealous of her lord._

_Of course they could always use Legilimency or Veritaserum to make sure she wasn't lying, plus if she told Ron, he would probably be more receptive to it because of all that happened before with the Christmas party and the incriminating photograph. _

_Oh shit_ . . . . Hermione closed her eyes and squinted while burying her head in the pillow and letting out a moan. What could she do now?

Automatically she turned to look back the sleeping Dark Lord, should she wake him up? This was important after all, and it involved him because if the Order found out about their affair, they would pull her out of the mission, and he wouldn't want that would he?

With another groan, she turned away again and lay down. Oh, who was she trying to make him out to be? It's not like he would care if she was pulled off the mission, she didn't mean anything to him after all, and the Order had no power over him; so if they did decide to take her off, he could always threaten to break the Alliance which was something Dumbledore could not afford and would thus, sell her for.

"Great, just great," Hermione muttered while her mind began mapping another possible path towards a solution. One which did not involve Voldemort nor Dumbledore; so in other words, she was on her own when it came to this one. _And maybe that was for the best,_ she added bitterly, _because so far, those two had only come up with outcomes for my problems that benefited themselves rather than me._

With a sigh, Hermione started outlining her options in her head. However, they were all not plausible which really only left her with one option and that was to prevent Bellatrix from going back to Grimmauld Place by placing charms or wards around the house. It was a preemptive action, and no one would need to know if she did them right.

When she and Voldemort had been on their trip to Paris, and he had been trying to seduce her over to his side by explaining all the things she could learn from him, he had used the wards system around his house as an example. Hermione had been very impressed when he mentioned his creation and application of sensually invisible wards around his property. Normally, wards were invisible to the eyes, but could be detected by touch, magical artifacts and sometimes sound. With Voldemort's wards however, this was not the case as his were completely undetectable by the senses and by almost all magical artifacts.

Now, she knew that it was completely irrational to think she could conjure up such complex wards on her first try, but if she were to use a quartz stone from down in the potions room to capture a small amount of his existing wards surrounding the property, she could go to Grimmauld Place and use a replicating charm so that the ward would multiply itself until it covered the entire property.

But how was she going to configure them to block only Bellatrix out? Ugh, he hadn't told her that as he had reminded her that until she pledged herself to him, he would only give her tastes of the magic he could teach her.

He had baited her good, that conniving snake, gotten her on the edge of her seat before abruptly kicking her out of the gold mine of information his mind was.

But whatever, at least she didn't give him the satisfaction of caving in and accepting his offer as he would've liked.

Hermione smirked at the memory before getting up and walking out of the room and into his library so she could think more clearly, books were always helpful at that. Silently, she sat at one of the Victorian sofas next to the floor length stained window through which the setting winter sun casts its dying glow into the room.

Maybe she could find out how to block someone out by reading one of the books . . . Hermione thought while turning her head to the looming bookcases lining the walls. _But if Voldemort had created them, then there would be no books explaining them_. With a frown Hermione looked away and back down at the carpet.

There was no way for her to block Bellatrix out from the wards because she was a Death Eater, and manipulating the Dark Lord's wards would not be a good idea not only because of the risks involved, but the high chance of getting caught.

So, since Hermione couldn't block Bellatrix out . . . maybe . . . .

Her eyes widened, what if she got the house elves to shift the wards at the mansion to block Bellatrix out? House elves were very territorial and were known for protecting their master's home with which they communicated through their elfin magic, and the elves at the mansion considered Hermione to be one of the masters. Hermione had been bothered when the elves started referring to her as 'mistress' rather than 'miss' as the first term was saved for the mistress of the house (which the elves had considered her as soon as they found out she was sleeping with Voldemort). She hadn't even tried to explain to them that she was not the mistress of the house, because she knew the elves wouldn't understand. For them, her having slept in the master of the house's bed all those nights, made her his wife. Now, however, that little technicality that had peeved her off so much before, would come in handy.

Perfect, after the elves changed the wards, she could then absorb a sample of those wards with the quartz, and when she moved them to Grimmauld Place, the block against Bellatrix would transfer over intact.

Hermione smiled, she would be helping Voldemort out, too since Bellatrix was no longer welcome, and he hadn't had the time to update the wards on this because of his injury.

_What about the Order members though, wouldn't they be blocked out, too since these are Voldemort's wards?_

Well, because of the Alliance, both sides' wards were open to members of the opposing side; so until the Alliance ended, her wards would be no problem. So, as long as Hermione made sure to take them off prior to the end of the Alliance, everything would be well. They wouldn't be needed past then anyway, because by that time Bellatrix would have been caught (if not killed) since her betrayal and attack on Voldemort would make him obsess over her capture even more than Harry's.

Feeling her spirits lifting, Hermione stood up and rushed towards the door, down the hallway and down the grand staircase to the kitchens where she knew the elves' quarters were. Silently, she pushed the wooden door of the kitchen open and stepped in, it seemed all the elves had turned in except for one wrinkly, old looking female elf who was knitting in the candlelight. As soon as she saw Hermione, she let out a small gasp and made to get up from the stool and bow.

"No, no, please, don't worry," Hermione said gently, the poor elf looked too old and frail to be making such rapid movements. "I just came here for Deepti."

"Deepti? Oh Okay, mistress," the elf said, "Maury! Maury, child!" she screeched in her ancient, harsh voice. Hermione smiled slightly when a small elf boy came running up to his grandmother.

"Nana?" he asked squeakily.

_Awww_, Hermione thought, his voice was so cutely high-pitched.

"Get Deepti! Run, hurry!" the elf said while pushing him away so he would run.

Then, using her cane, the elf slowly meandered back to her place.

"Would you like a drink or something to eat, mistress?"

"No, you are too kind," Hermione said while walking over to where the woman was. "What are you making?"

"A sweater for my grandson, Maury," the elf shakingly lifted her partially finished work and allowed Hermione to take it, "he goes outside a lot to get firewood, and he always catches colds because his sweaters aren't warm enough. He's a good boy though, a very good boy, he always helps his father, yes."

"Hmm." Hermione frowned slightly and made a note to speak with Voldemort about outfitting his elves properly. He never had a problem buying himself the cream of the crop when it came to garments; so why couldn't he purchase basic winter wear for his elves? Quickly, she changed her frown to a smile, as she didn't want the grandma to think she disliked her work. "This is so pretty, he's going to love it, I'm sure," Hermione put down her knitting and patted it. She reminded her of her grandmother, that lady had always knitted and crocheted things for her and her parents.

"Mistress?"

Hermione looked up at Deepti and then smiled.

"Deepti, I need to ask you for a favor," Hermione waved her over until they were by the door. "Do you know how to make changes to the wards around the house?"

"No, Epi knows, he is master's personal elf and the head elf," Deepti said.

"Could I speak with him?" Hermione went on, feeling slightly discouraged, she had never truly met that elf before. She had seen him a few times whenever Voldemort had called him in, but she hadn't had the opportunity to get to know him.

A few seconds later, Epi emerged from the side door in the kitchen wall. He was wearing his usual impeccable black cozy, only this time he had accessorized it with a green bow tie.

The elf stopped in front of her, his hands clasped behind his back. "Mistress?"

Hermione smiled momentarily at Epi replicating his master's mannerisms so perfectly.

"Epi, I need you to make a change to the wards around the house."

The elf eyed her with its large, empty blue eyes.

"The master hasn't said anything."

"That's because the master is asleep, he's hurt and is recovering," Hermione said lightly as a plan formed in her head to get Epi to help her out. "I need you to Block Bellatrix Lestrange from Apparating or coming onto the property, she attacked the master earlier today and is no longer welcome here. She is an enemy, the master wanted to block her out himself, but he had to rest because he was hurt. I don't want to wake him up because he needs to recover, but I am also worried that she might come in here and finish him off in his weakened state, that is why I need you to do this for me."

Epi watched her silently, Hermione straightened up to her full height because being scrutinized by his large orbs was making her very uncomfortable. Epi was really an elfin version of his master.

"Wait a moment, please," the elf finally said before disappearing with a crack.

Hermione looked around in vain, where had he gone?

_Probably to check up on Voldemort . . . make sure I'm not lying. He wouldn't wake him up though, would he? No . . . he would see the sleeping potions and the pain-killers on the Dark Lord's nightstand, he would know to not wake him up. _

A few moment later, the elf popped back in front of her. His pose and demeanor was not as suspicious as before which helped Hermione relax.

"I will do that now," he said with a slight vow, "and I will tell Deepti when it's done so she can let you know."

Hermione smiled warmly.

"Thank you."

With one last smile, she left the kitchen and went back to her room. She dressed silently while she waited for Deepti to come and confirm the wards had been altered. She didn't know how long that would take, but she hoped it wouldn't be so long as she wanted to get this done as soon as possible. Slowly, she sat down on her mattress and leaned back against the headboard to wait, Hermione was considering going down to the potion's room to get the crystal while she waited; however, she didn't want the elves seeing her and getting suspicious or worse, telling their master. Hermione knew her plan was a huge risk, not at the moment, but in the future when the Alliance would no longer be in place. Because if Voldemort found out that his wards were guarding the Order's headquarters, he could end the Alliance - depriving the Order of their immunity from him – and then use his wards to locate headquarters and dissolve them as well as Dumbledore's to gain entrance; thus, Hermione would've served her friends and fellow Order members on a silver platter to him.

_Maybe I shouldn't do it,_ she thought while biting down on her lip as the worst case scenario sunk into her mind, _it's not fair to everyone that I put their lives at such risk to protect myself against the repercussions of my own actions._

_So, the other option is to not do anything and hope that Bellatrix doesn't show her face for fear of being captured . . .but knowing her rashness when it comes to her beloved, that would not be the case. Bellatrix was going to be out for blood, my blood._

Hermione moaned and drew her legs towards her chest before burying her face against her knees. What would she do? Dumbledore had always told her to do what was right, not what was easy, but truth was that neither one of her choices was 'easy'. If she did go ahead with the wards, she was putting her friends at risk and if she didn't, she would be giving Bellatrix a huge window of opportunity through which to get back at her. Either way she was screwed.

In the silence of the falling night, Hermione started crying silently, and she hated herself for it; however, there was nothing she could do to stop it. Hermione had always thought of crying as being pointless, after all no one had ever found a solution to their problems just by crying, but rather sucking it up and seeking a resolution with a clear mind. Back when she believed that however, she was nothing but a schoolgirl, and while her problems were not average due to her involvement with the war, she was still not at the center of it. Now, however, she had gone from being in the periphery of the hurricane to the eye of it, and she was slowly cracking under the strain.

"Hermione."

Said girl looked up at Voldemort who was standing by the door, slowly he wandered over to her bed. Hermione sniffed and buried her face back against her knees. She didn't even look up when she heard him sit down next to her.

"Why are you crying?"

She shook her head. "It's not important."

"Tell me."

Hermione kept silent, she knew she would have to tell him, willing or not. Truth was, she didn't mind telling him about the Bellatrix problem, if anything he could help, but she did not want him to know what she had come up with as a possible resolution.

"You told Bellatrix about us didn't you?" Hermione said, finally looking up, "that's why she got so angry?"

"Yes," he replied stiffly, his follower's name reviving the fire of his ire.

"I'm afraid that she will go back to Grimmauld Place and tell the Order about us to get back at me," Hermione said quietly, finally looking up at him.

"I will take care of that tonight," he said, staring at her intently, "when I strip her of her Death Eater title and declare her a traitor. I have already called a meeting with the inner circle to discuss her capture and afterwards when we go to Dumbledore to deliver the new emissary, he and I will declare Bellatrix 'persona non grata' and as such, she will not be allowed to go anywhere near Grimmauld Place."

"What if she sends them an owl?" Hermione said, frown lines on her forehead.

"It won't go through because she will be a 'persona non grata', aren't you familiar with the curse?"

Hermione felt herself reddening; she hated to admit that she hadn't heard of it before. She didn't even need to admit it, however, because as soon as he saw her rouging, he smirked and his hand landed on hers.

"No need to be embarrassed, it's not your fault the curriculum at Hogwarts has been so watered down since Dumbledore took office."

"So, once you do this curse, she will basically not be allowed to have any contact whatsoever with them or with you?" Hermione said slowly, hoping that he would confirm.

"Yes, she will not be able to contact us or come onto any of our properties without Dumbledore and myself rescinding the curse."

"What time are you going to go?" Hermione said with a sniff while looking up, her mood lifting like a helium balloon in open skies.

"Right after the meeting; so in an hour at most," he said simply. His hands running over the fabric of his pants, he was still bare-chested. "I have to change."

Hermione smiled with relief. "Are you feeling better, though? You haven't slept that long."

"The pain has dulled down," he said matter-of-factly while turning to look at her, "I've felt much worse."

"Yeah, I'm sure splitting your soul seven times is no hot stone massage," Hermione mumbled.

"No, it wasn't. However, it was necessary and perfect for helping me build a tolerance for pain."

Hermione nodded absentmindedly while she collected her thoughts. "Okay, so . . . we should probably go down to the meeting room. The sooner we do this, the better, right?"

"Yes." He stood up and held out his hand for her to take. Hermione did so and got off the bed; however, even though she was on her feet, she didn't feel like letting go of his hand. She needed support right now, desperately. "You should fix your hair a little," he muttered while looking at her frizzy, loose hair. Hermione cursed when she realized he was right: she hadn't styled it and had let it dry naturally after her shower.

"You should also change, you wore that robe last meeting."

"So what? It's not a fashion show!" Hermione hissed while casting quick spells at her hair, "besides, this is important, we should go."

"No, I want you to change," he said flatly, "you look careless otherwise."

"No, everyone's probably downstairs waiting for you already, and I want you to declare Bellatrix 'persona non grata', or have you forgotten what's at stake?" Hermione turned around from the mirror she had been facing to fix up her appearance.

"Nothing that concerns me," he replied with a raised eyebrow and an insolent smirk.

"Oh really? So you wouldn't mind if I was pulled off the mission, and you didn't have your little Barbie doll anymore who you could dress up, fuck, order around and impose dietary restrictions upon?"

He snorted, a smile on his face. "It's good for you, you know. Besides, my Barbie isn't as much fun to play with anymore, she's not letting me dress her."

"She already let you do her hair."

He pouted while she finished applying products to her hair. "There, how does it look?" she asked his reflection.

"Horrible," he snapped and turned away from her.

Hermione sighed internally and glanced at him from her mirror. She was very inclined to make a sassy comment, but that would make him a pain to deal with, and Hermione already had a lot of things on her mind. Instead, she turned around and walked towards him. Once she reached him, she took his hand and came close to his face, of course he insisted on looking away from her.

"Tom, come on, this is a really serious situation, we should not be wasting time like this," she said softly while grabbing his chin and making him look down at her.

He swatted her hand off his chin and looked away again in response. Hermione bit her lip and prayed a higher order for a bucket full of patience.

"Oh come on, Tom, do you really want me to follow your every order? Do you really want me to come along after you with the first tug of the leash? Do you want me to be another Death Eater, another Bellatrix?"

He turned to glare at her at the mention of his former follower. Hermione knew by mentioning Bellatrix she was treading on thin ice, but she had to try that angle.

"Seriously, Tom, think about it, she did everything you asked her to, and because of that she bore you, you told me yourself. So do you really want me to obey your every command without thought?"

"She didn't obey me all the time, I told her to get over me, and she didn't," he hissed.

"Because she was obsessed with you and thus, mentally unstable. You can't reason with someone like that," Hermione replied coolly.

He remained silent, his eyes staring darkly at the closet doors.

"Come on," Hermione tugged on his hand, "I promise I'll dress up for you later."

"Dress up how?" he said, his attention finally on Hermione.

"Well . . ." she said as she played with the collar of his robes and avoided his eyes, "it's not so much dressing up as it is dressing down," she looked up at him as she said the last part with a smirk and a suggestive glint in her eyes.

His angry expression changed at this, and a salacious smile took over his face as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. "How dressed down?"

Hermione smiled and brought her lips to his, she closed her eyes as they kissed slowly but lavishly; she didn't want it to escalate though, and so she broke the kiss soon after. "The sooner we finish with work, the sooner you'll get to see."

She tugged at his hand again and took a step towards the door. To her relief, he followed, and so Hermione gave him a brief peck on the lips in gratitude as they left the room in amiable silence.

"So, have you decided who will take over as emissary?" Hermione asked as they walked down the hall.

"Yes."

"Who?"

He smirked. "You'll see."

"Oh, boy, is that person going to make everyone even more uncomfortable than they were with the other emissary?"

"Some people, yes, others no."

"Is Harry the only one under the 'some people' category?"

Voldemort laughed silently and looked down at her. "Maybe."

Hermione rolled her eyes while shaking her head. "Definitely."

He laughed at her response, and before Hermione could stop his smile from rubbing off on her, she returned his amusement with a snort and a smile. However, she looked down immediately after and cursed herself for having laughed at her friend's plight.

Her conflicted thoughts were interrupted when Voldemort let go of her hand as they were right around the corner from the meeting room.

"So, I'll see you inside?" she said while waiting for him to carry out his usual entrance.

"No, I'll come with you," he said as they continued walking, only this time without the intimacy that had been present in their walk from her room.

Hermione nodded and smiled as they entered the room, at which point the smile fell off her face and a blank visage replaced it.

In silence, they crossed through the pathway that had been left open for them by the inner circle who were already at their respective places. Hermione made sure to avert her eyes from the Malfoys who were standing next to her usual spot; instead, she focused her eyes on the tree outside the large windows and ignored the wizards' brief, but poison-filled glares.

"Tonight," the Dark Lord breathed as he began to pace in the middle of the circle, head down and hands clutched behind his back, "tonight, I exposed a traitor."

He paused as the whispering and gazes went back and forth around the circle so as to get any indication of who the traitor might be.

"They are not here tonight," Voldemort went on as he finally stopped his pacing with a loud scrape of his heels and looked up towards the remaining Lestrange. "Rodolphus, have you been home at all today?"

All eyes were on said Death Eater who was visibly shaken, but managed to compose himself almost immediately.

"My lord, no . . . " he replied as the Dark Lord approached him. Hermione saw Rodolphus recoiling slightly in apprehension, and she pursed her lips and looked away disapprovingly. On her eyes' way to the tree outside, she caught sight of the faces of both Malfoy men looking gleeful at Rodolphus' predicament. It disgusted her, this whole situation, not only because Voldemort was taking his anger out on Rodolphus, but because the Malfoys were so happy at seeing their competitor in a tough spot. If she was in Voldemort's shoes, she would make Rodolphus her third-in-command, not the Malfoys as they were sneaky and backstabbing; Rodolphus, on the other hand, seemed to Hermione to be a lot more loyal, almost Griffindor-like.

"So you haven't seen Bellatrix, then?"

"No, my liege," Rodolphus said in a stronger tone so as to reassure Voldemort of his truthfulness. Said Dark Lord took him up on his challenge and met his eyes with his infamously deep and truth extracting stare.

"Too bad." He snapped his eyes off Rodolphus' and turned his back to him while walking back to the center of the circle. Hermione saw Rodolphus sag slightly as soon as the Dark Lord broke his powerful stare; her heart instantly ached, she knew how unsettling the feeling was. "Because that would have saved us a lot of headaches that will surely come while we try to locate and silence her."

The quiet that followed was a confused one as the people tried to wrap their minds around what the Dark Lord was implying.

"You see, Bellatrix has turned her back on us; she has abandoned us," he waited for his words to sink in before continuing, "and most importantly, our cause. It will seem surprising to you considering Bellatrix has always been my most fervent follower and supporter of the cause, and I must confess that I myself am still shaken as I, like all of you, thought her allegiance to our side was grounded after 30 or so years and not vulnerable to moments of rashness and immaturity." He stopped pacing while biting his lip and looking around thoughtfully.

"You see the reason why Bellatrix deserted us is because she found out about my involvement with Ms. Granger."

The air left Hermione as soon as he said the word 'involvement' as she just knew what would follow. All her self-control couldn't stop her eyes from widening and her teeth from clamping down on her bottom lip as her heart stated beating raucously. The Death Eater's reactions, however, were not what Hermione expected, as soon as their lord had mentioned her name, most of them turned towards each other and shared brief, but pointed 'I told you so' glances before staring at her with smirks. At this, Hermione's shock quickly wore off and instead turned into exasperation, mostly towards the man in the center who was avoiding her eyes like those of Medusa, but also the Malfoys who she was sure had been the ones mostly in charge of spreading the rumor. A rumor which only Crabbe and Goyle seemed to not have been a privy of as they were now the only ones gaping at her.

"Her petty jealousy drove her over the edge and forgetting her place, she confronted me about it as she had twice already; however, you must all understand how infuriating it was for me to have to keep repeating myself, and so I decided to make this my definitive and . . . _final _explanation."

He stopped pacing and looked up at his followers. "And apparently, I made it clear enough, so clear, that while I was dealing out her punishment, Dumbledore interrupted us, and Bellatrix used my inattention to get away. I don't think I need to tell you that such an action immediately forfeits any sort of link to myself and this organization." He clenched his jaw and began gnashing his teeth as if he were grinding nuts.

"Therefore, since Bellatrix Lestrange has decided to desert this organization, she will meet the fate of all traitors. A fate which will have to be dealt sooner rather than later, not only because of the slight committed, but because of the information she has on us and could spill in revenge."

Having finished his speech, he stood back and looked expectantly at his followers who were all sporting varied emotions from impeccably hidden happiness (in the case of Lucius who could now have a shot at second- in-commandship instead of third), to disbelief (the majority of them), and in Rodolphus' case, anger, probably because he thought that Bellatrix's stunt had disqualified him in the running for third (now second)-in command.

"No questions?" Voldemort snapped, "is that how much we care that our organization has been disrespected?"

Hermione pursed her lips and looked around the crowd, they all seemed reluctant to talk, probably knowing that the Dark Lord was using this as a way to finding someone to take his anger out on, _and he probably was,_ Hermione thought with a sniff_, the stupid snake, he better drag the meeting on and on because as soon as I have him in a room by himself . . . he's gonna get it for telling everyone._

Hermione blushed immediately after she said this and cursed herself for her dirty mind, because instead of thinking about what she was going to say to him, she was thinking along more physical lines. _But I will be damned if he gets any, no, time to start flexing some muscle of my own._ Hermione thought with a scowl while crossing her arms.

"Do you want us to bring her back dead or alive?" she heard a brave soul call out.

No sooner had her eyes landed on the speaker, Rowle, that the latter landed on the floor while the Cruciatus ravaged his form. Hermione bit her lip, _make that a martyred soul._

"Alive, obviously!" the Dark Lord yelled as soon as the curse was lifted, "I am the one that deals with traitors, and anyone that takes that privilege from me will also be considered a traitor!"

_And then he complains when people don't speak up_, Hermione thought with a sigh while watching Rowle get up and murmur apologies nonstop, _oh Tom . . . you truly are something else._

"Draco!" the incensed Dark Lord snapped suddenly, making everyone jump. Hermione smiled briefly at the rapidly draining color on the ferret's face, "you will be replacing Bellatrix as emissary."

Hermione silently groaned and ached in advance for Harry, she had had an inkling that he was the one chosen. After all, none of the other Death Eaters were close enough to Harry to make him as uncomfortable as Malfoy would. Then there was overbearing Ron who would probably assume Malfoy was after his sister, and of course Draco would play along with that to incense Ron, and then he would probably call Ginny 'Weaslette' which would make the other brothers gang up on him and then there would be his snooty comments on the cramped nature of Grimmauld Place and lack of house elves and . . . oh the genius of Voldemort: he was going to _destroy_ the Order by taking away their peaceful co-existence. . . .

"You all are dismissed and remember that if I don't have Bellatrix at my feet by the end of the week, you will all feel my wrath! Malfoys, stay!"

Hermione remained in her place as everyone else filed out in silence and urgent whispers. She saw Voldemort wave her over, and so she went over to his side where the Malfoys already where.

"Draco, we will leave right now. I don't want to allow Dumbledore any window of opportunity to make plans behind our backs. Your father can bring you what you need from home."

"Of course, my lord, thank you for giving me this important task," Draco said smoothly, _oh the suck-up_, Hermione had to stop her eyes from rolling on their own accord.

"I trust you will cause as much discomfort to Potter as the vows and contract will allow?"

Nothing could stop the Jack-o-Lantern grin from forming on Draco's face as he said, (with as much honesty as Hermione had ever heard in his voice):

"My lord, it would be my greatest honor."

Even Voldemort couldn't stop himself from returning the young Malfoy's grin. "I am glad to know, then, that I made the right choice." He even went so far as to pat Draco on the back, a feat which made Lucius glow with pride.

"Lucius, I want you to be on alert for your sister-in-law, she will probably come looking for your wife, and I am not so sure she would be strong enough to turn in her own sister."

"Of course, my lord," Lucius said.

"You may leave then." Voldemort concluded as Lucius gave a bow and started walking towards the exit of the room. Once he was out, the Dark Lord summoned a large bronze cup. "Grab on," he said to Draco while holding out the right handle for him to take, Hermione was about to reach out and grab the bottom of the cup, but before she could do that, he had grabbed her by the waist and pulled her tightly against him, an action which made Draco smirk. Hermione forcefully pushed back against Voldemort to loosen up his hold on her and counted to ten so as to not blast them both off the face of the earth.

Before she could however, the Portkey kicked into action, and they were pulled into a whirlwind as they made their way to their destination.

* * *

Ron had been looking forward to getting home to his flat and going to sleep; however, no sooner had he been out of work, that his mother had called frantically and asked him to come to Grimmauld Place.

And now there he was, drowning along with everyone else in the agitated environment. Apparently, You-Know-Who had shown up, and he and Bellatrix had had such a big fight, that he tried to kill her, but she managed to escape. Up until then, Ron had been happy at Voldemort's misfortune, but then his mother went on to say that he was starving Hermione by controlling everything she ate, and this caused Ron's positive mood to spiral into an uncontrolled tornado of anger.

"What?" he had exclaimed and stood up so fast from his chair that it fell on the carpet. "Did Dumbledore see?"

"Yes," his mother said, "You-Know-Who didn't even want her to stay for lunch, but I couldn't let her go off without lunch; so I made Him let her stay." Molly's voice grew strong, clearly proud of her accomplishment.

"You should've seen your mom confronting that son of a bitch," Harry said with a proud smile, "he tried to intimidate her, but she stood her ground and insisted Hermione stay."

"Well, I couldn't let my daughter go off to be starved by him!" Molly said, "like I told him," she paused and fidgeted nervously before continuing, "Vol –Voldemort, I don't back down when it comes to my childrens' wellbeing!"

She smiled and laughed nervously, clearly happy she had overcome her fear of His name. Harry too was smiling, and even Ron, in his rage, was happy for his mother's newfound strength.

"Dumbledore has to listen to me now, there is no way that I will allow Hermione's wellbeing to be put on the line. You know, this is a way of causing harm; I'm surprised the vow let him!" Ron said.

"Well, -"

Harry broke off as the objects of their conversation along with Malfoy came into the room.

"Well, I hope I didn't keep you waiting that long," Voldemort said in greeting to the inhabitants of the room, "I can only imagine how much you've missed me."

"Tom, we should go in the other room so we can have Draco read the contract and take the vows," Dumbledore said hurriedly, fearing that Harry or another riled up Order member would respond to the Dark Lord's bait.

"He's the new emissary?" Harry snapped.

"Yes, Harry," Voldemort replied with a smile, "you see, I always have you in mind, and so I figured you would want someone your own age to interact with in this lonesome house, someone that can tell you what it feels like to not be kept on a leash by their master." He shot a delicate but pointed glance at Dumbledore.

"No, not Malfoy," Harry snapped and turned to look at the headmaster, "this is too much, professor!"

"Harry, according to the contract, each side gets to pick their own delegate," Dumbledore explained.

"But they're abusing the contract!" Ron snapped, "first, he puts Hermione on a diet, and now he chooses a candidate that will instigate us."

At this, the attention was shifted to Hermione who pursed her lips and looked at a loss of words for a few seconds before regaining the usual haughty Hermione look. "_He_ didn't put me on a diet, Ron, _I _chose to go on a diet," Hermione said loudly.

"But he was telling you what you could and couldn't eat!" Ron snapped, his anger quickly returning to him.

"You weren't there, Ron," Hermione said while shaking her head, clearly uncomfortable at the direction of the conversation.

"No, but the rest of them were, and they told me."

"I-"

"Ron, if you want to have a discussion with your fiancé, I suggest you do it later and in private," Dumbledore cut in, "until then, the four of us will be in the meeting room carrying out the vow."

With that, he and the three others left the sitting room and went back to the meeting room in silence.

* * *

Throughout the taking of the vow and Bellatrix's declaration as 'persona non grata', Hermione's thoughts kept drifting to her impending confrontation with Ron. What would she say? How was she going to explain Voldemort's behavior?

Hermione tightened her lips into a thin line as she cursed the Dark Lord, it was unbelievable that she was going to have to clean up a problem that he had made for her. All too soon, the meeting was adjourned, and they exited the room. Hermione made sure to walk extra slow as they neared the sitting room and kitchen where everyone was. Unfortunately, the foyer, where they were headed, was right off the sitting room and so when they got there, Hermione saw Ron had seated himself on the couch facing the entrance so he could see them before they left. As soon as they came into view, Ron stood up and walked towards them. Hermione tried to not look anxious as he neared them.

" –Lucius will also be coming around later bringing Draco clothes and the like," Voldemort was telling Dumbledore as Ron came near the group. The Dark Lord's eyes wandered onto the redhead prompting Dumbledore to do the same.

"Ronald, Hermione will be free in a few minutes," the headmaster said.

"I don't want her going back," Ron said bluntly.

Of all the things he could've said, that was the last one Hermione expected. She stared at him in disbelief; Voldemort actually sniffed humorously, his lips tugging up into a smile.

"Ron, we will not be discussing this now," Dumbledore said briefly.

"Hermione's wellbeing is at stake! You can't just stand by and let him do this to her!" Ron snapped.

"Ron, he is not doing anything he's not allowed to do," Hermione snapped, finally finding her voice, "I will be seeing this mission to its completion and that's final."

"So you let him control what you eat?" Ron shrieked in disbelief, "what the hell is wrong with you, Hermione?"

"As she told you before, she was the one that chose to go on a diet," Voldemort said suddenly, saving Hermione from the spotlight, "when the elves told me, I decided to take the course of action which I did due to my controlling nature, and Ms. Granger graced me with her consent because she knew she could use that as leverage to get me to let her spend Valentine's day weekend with you."

All the times she had been grateful to someone paled in comparison to this instance. Hermione had to bite her lip quite hard to prevent the grin from breaking out over her face. Instead, she gave Ron a pointed look that said, 'see?'

"Really?" Ron asked, his tone low and shaky.

Hermione nodded and smiled. "It was the only way that I could spend the entire weekend with you."

"Oh . . ." Ron seemed at a loss of words, "well, you didn't need to go on a diet for me . . . " he finally said sheepishly, "I think you look great either way."

Hermione thought about informing him that she hadn't gone on a diet for _him_, but decided against that. So, she just gave him a sweet smile and thanked him.

"Well, touching as this little moment was, Hermione and I have to get back."

"Okay, so I'll see you Friday night?" Ron asked her as he came closer.

"Yeah," Hermione said with a quiet smile. Ron grabbed her hand and bent down to kiss her, Hermione thought about resisting since she didn't want to be kissed in front of this audience, but she figured a good-bye peck would be okay. However, Ron seemed to have different ideas, and before she could pull away, he wrapped his arm around her waist and started moving his lips over hers, Hermione tensed and parted her lips so as to tell him to stop, but he took it as an invitation to stick his tongue in her mouth. No sooner had he done this, that Voldemort's voice broke the silence.

"Sex deprived as you may be, Weasley, you can't forget you have an audience; so I suggest saving your germ exchange for a private occasion."

Ron reluctantly let go of her, but it was obvious he was greatly displeased by the wistful looks he would give Hermione's body. The brunette, on the other hand, was relieved to not be in his embrace anymore, it just didn't feel right to be kissing him when Tom was right there.

"Bye," Hermione told everyone as she and Voldemort stepped out into the gently snowing night.

"Where are we going? Why didn't we just Apparate from the foyer?" Hermione called out as she ran to catch up to the Dark Lord.

"You want your fiancé to see me putting my arm around your waist? With how hotheaded he is, it would cause too much unnecessary trouble," Voldemort said, "No, we're going out."

"We're already out," Hermione said while looking around them to make sure no one was in the vicinity, they were out in public (albeit in a Muggle neighborhood), and he was sporting his infamous snake face. "And we shouldn't be for much longer unless you want someone to see you."

He shrugged. "There's only Muggles here, they'll just think I'm a burn victim."

Hermione sniffed and chuckled while looking down at the snow and kicking it with her foot. "Let's go home though, seriously, I'm cold."

"Fine, we need to change anyway," he said while taking her by the waist.

"Change? For –?" Hermione didn't have time to finish her question before he Apparated them away.

* * *

A half and hour later, Voldemort was seated facing Hermione, or rather Jane, at a table in a restaurant.

"I can't believe you got me to go out with you," Hermione muttered, "I'm mad at you, you know."

"For what? I saved your ass from Weasley, you should be on your knees thanking me for my quick thinking," he countered.

Hermione shook her head. "Well my ass wouldn't have needed any saving if someone had not decided to show up at the Order this morning and make a scene. And also, why did you tell your Death Eaters about us?"

"They already knew, besides it's not like they're going to talk." Tom shrugged and leaned back in his seat to survey the other people in the restaurant.

"No, but now they're going to give me a hard time," Hermione said while drinking from her wine glass.

"Let me know who, and I'll give them an even harder time," he said with a wink while raising his glass to his lips. Hermione couldn't help but smile slightly; she ran her hands over her fabric-covered thighs as it was slightly cold in the room in spite of the fireplaces.

"You're cold?"

"A little," she said, "I should've brought a wrap, it's a strapless dress after all."

"It's nice," he commented.

"Well, I have to keep up, don't I?" she nodded toward his outfit.

"I'm not that dressed up," he said while looking down and checking his mustard ascot to make sure it was still tucked perfectly into his striped shirt, "just wearing a navy blazer and chinos."

"Yeah, you look really nice," she said quietly, a slight flush in her cheeks as she surveyed the handsome and impeccably dressed man facing her.

"Do you know what you're getting?" he went on.

"Uhm . . ." Hermione looked down at the menu, "I am choosing between the grilled Dover sole and the Kobe beef croquettes."

"Sole," he said definitively while setting down his own menu, "with the steamed spinach."

"And the garlic mashed potatoes," Hermione said.

"You already had that for lunch."

"I had two bites, besides it's not like they're going to serve me a pot of mashed potatoes, they'll give me a scoop."

"Do you want to be fat forever?" he snapped obnoxiously.

"If it bothers you so much, you don't have to have sex with me," Hermione snapped just as angrily, "and besides, I'm not fat!"

"You were ten pounds overweight," he said.

"Exactly, I was overweight, but never fat; plus I've lost five pounds!" Hermione sniffed angrily, "and besides, why do you care about my weight so much?"

"Because I want you to look your best," he hissed just as the waiter came up to them.

"Have you had time to decide what you will be getting this evening?" he said lowly.

"Grilled sole," Hermione said, "with the spinach and mashed potatoes."

"Alright," the young man said while writing down on his notepad, "and you, Mr. Riddle?"

"Kobe beef croquettes," Tom said immediately while giving Hermione an obnoxious wink,"glass of Chardonnay for the lady and a glass of the Echezaux for me."

"Alright, we will have that right out." The waiter smiled and walked off.

As the waiter left, Tom sat back in his chair, "I'm really looking forward to the croquettes, they sounded good, didn't they, Jane? Fatty foods are always the best tasting."

"I hate you," Hermione admitted and drank the remaining water in her glass.

Voldemort laughed. "Oh come now, Hermione, don't worry, I'll make sure to describe the flavors to the best of my abilities."

Hermione rolled her eyes and started looking around The Belvedere, it was beautifully decorated.

"You like it?"

"Yeah, it's very nice," Hermione said curtly while watching the waiter who had come to fill her empty glass with more water. They were both silent after that while the man filled both their glasses and then departed.

"So, onto more pressing matters . . ." Voldemort leaned forward and placed his forearms on the table, "have you given any thought to the occurrence between Mr. Malfoy and yourself?"

"No, I haven't had the time," Hermione admitted.

"Well, I was thinking you could start by reading the contract that Dumbledore and I signed." To her surprise, he pulled out a rolled up parchment out of his coat pocket and placed it on the table.

"You want me to do this now?" she asked while unrolling the document.

"The sooner we start the better," he said with a shrug and a smile that struck Hermione as strange, he looked calm . . . too calm.

"You've already figured this out, haven't you?" she said quietly.

He smirked. "Maybe."

"Well, why don't you tell me then?"

"Because this way is more fun."

Hermione snapped her eyes off his smiling face and looked down at the parchment, it was pretty long; she couldn't even unroll it without it hitting the floor and unrolling its way to the next table over.

"Hermione!" snapped Voldemort as the parchment was immediately rolled back into itself before the people next to them could get a good look at it. Hermione smiled apologetically at them before turning back to the Dark Lord who was looking around to make sure no one had gotten a peek at the document. "Could you be any clumsier?" he hissed.

"Well, it's not _my_ fault that someone can't keep a contract under 12 feet," Hermione hissed back.

"That was Dumbledore's fault, he kept making amendments to the additions that I made which would then force me to make more additions to counteract what he put in, and then he would add more things to take power from me, and then I –"

"Okay, okay, I get the picture," Hermione said with a wave of her hand. "But I'm not doing this now, I'll do it later."

"Fine, I didn't know you were going to be so clumsy anyway. If I give you the contract now, you would probably make it fall again for the whole world to read," the Dark Lord muttered while hiding said document back in his pocket.

"Yes, whatever," Hermione said with a sigh, "let's just try to have a nice, relaxing dinner with no serious talk for once."

And that was what they did.


	14. Chapter 14

Thanks to all my reviewers!: Scarlett woman, Rena Katsueki, Nerys, Sesshomari, Inkfire, Dramione- fan 17, Fury Sphere, LK Hogwarts Head Girl, sweet- tang- honey, Dee, Gsalilsecret, David Boreanaz's wife247, Beautiful Liar- 13, and Armanifan101

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make money from these writings.

Having Draco around proved as disastrous as Ginny had imagined it. First off, he had taken Voldemort's request to heart and made sure to antagonize Harry as much as he could. Plus, Ron had gotten it in his head that Draco was after his baby sister (Ginny thought it was probably because they'd sometimes been caught glancing at each other), but of course Ron thought the interest was only coming from Malfoy, and so now, she was under her mother's watch while Ron was at work, and under his watch when he got home from work (as soon as Malfoy had been chosen as emissary, Ron had decided to move in with them). The situation was grading down Ginny's last nerves, and she knew she had to figure something out or else she would tell everyone off and go on a self-imposed exile. Even Draco wasn't helping things, not only because he kept victimizing Harry (Ginny always glared at him when he did), but because he kept trying to meet up with Ginny (that proved impossible since she was always under someone's watch), and when he got caught wandering around her perimeter, it made her mom and Ron become extra protective which meant that Ginny wasn't allowed to be 5 feet from either one. So, yes, Ginevra Weasley was considering either jumping off a bridge herself or pushing them all off one.

"Okay, hun, so when will you be back?" her mother was saying as she watched her daughter putting on her jacket in the foyer.

"Later," she said, not bothering to look at her.

"Okay, well, make sure you knock and wait for me or Ron to open the door, okay?"

Ginny bit her lip and turned briskly around, she wasn't having this.

"Ginny!"

"Okay, mom!" she snapped and slammed the door shut, the cold breeze a welcome caress against her stingingly hot face.

Almost as soon as she set foot outside, her mirror began heating up in her pocket. Ginny pulled it out with a sigh and flipped it open.

"What?"

Draco looked slightly taken back at his girlfriend's tone and expression. "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

"Did something happen? Did something happen?" Ginny repeated while rolling her eyes, "yeah something happened, I'm being treated like freaking two year old and it's all your fault!"

There was a pause. "Well, look I'm sorry about the laundry thing, okay? It's just, it was the only time you were alone, and I thought that no one would come –"

"So you corner me in it and lock the door? What the fuck were you thinking?" snapped Ginny as she came to a halt, "hold on I'm gonna Apparate."

She willed herself to go to Diagon Alley and closed her eyes as she felt herself being transported. Once her move was over, she opened her eyes to find herself outside her favorite coffee shop, she had been going there a lot. It was open until late and there were comfy couches where she could curl up with a book and read for hours at a time.

"Well I can't leave the door open if we have sex," he replied as soon as she swiped the mirror's surface to take the hold off their conversation.

"Yeah? And you didn't realize that maybe it was a little strange that I was alone in the laundry room, but nowhere else in the house? It never occurred to you that maybe my mom had forgotten to get the soap, and she had gone to get it and would be returning at any minute only to find the door locked and us inside? Hmm?"

He looked flustered. "Look, I'm sorry . . . it's just I couldn't hold it in anymore . . . ."

"Yeah, well, now you just made things worse because now they won't let me out of their sight at all which means that you will have to keep jacking off until the end of your tenure as emissary," Ginny ended her statement curtly as she looked up at the cashier and ordered a Chai latte. Draco was quiet as she went to stand in an isolated corner while waiting for her drink to be ready.

"I am going to be reporting to him this week," Draco said quickly, "I don't know what, but . . . I'm gonna search for something, I swear I'll find something, and then we could meet up somewhere for like an hour."

"Fine," Ginny said with a sigh and a shrug, "but don't be stupid about it and get yourself tortured for reporting useless information."

"Yeah . . ." he trailed off while looking down at a corner for a few seconds, "you're on their side . . . maybe you could tell me something to give to him?"

Ginny stared at him. "Nice try, but not gonna happen."

He threw up his hands in exasperation.

"Oh, come on, Ginny! Don't you want this as much as I do?"

"Yeah, I want it, but I don't need it like you apparently do," she placed a hold on her mirror as she went back towards the bar and grabbed her drink. Her eyes immediately went to a corner armchair under a shabby chandelier and side table, that was her usual spot, away from everyone else, "and I will certainly not become your mole for it," she hissed as she sat down at her armchair.

He was biting his lip for a few seconds while Ginny dug in her purse for her chosen books for the night.

"So what are you reading tonight?"

"Continuing the two books I read last night."

There was a long silence as she placed the open mirror on the sidetable.

"Well, can't you read later? This is the only time we can talk," he said finally.

"I don't want to talk to you, I'm mad at you," Ginny replied quickly as she turned a page and sipped her drink.

"Why are you being such a bitch?"

"What?"

Ginny turned her head towards the mirror and glared at the figure in its reflection, she could see people around her had turned around briefly.

"Don't you fucking dare call me that, Draco Malfoy," she hissed as she got close to the mirror, "don't you ever use that word around me!"

Just as he opened his mouth to respond, she slammed the mirror shut. Almost as soon as she did, it burned red again as he called her back, but she ignored it. It was on the table after all, so it could burn until its imprint was on the wood, she didn't think the shop owners would care anyway as it would add to the shabby, gothic look they were going for.

Scowling, she took a deep breath and reopened her book.

* * *

After their Valentine's dinner on Thursday when Voldemort had admitted to know the reason why she had been able to hit Malfoy, Hermione had put herself on the case and was itching to figure out why. She initiated her research on Friday, but didn't get too much done unfortunately, as she had to attend meetings with Voldemort, and go to Ron's at 6. Hermione was sad to admit that Valentine's day weekend was awful, she literally kept marking down the days and hours to go back and continue her research. Voldemort commiserated with her and decided to help her out by sending an emergency floo early Sunday afternoon. In thanks, Hermione gave him the biggest, most drawn out kiss when she got back before running to the library to continue reading. However, she was soon disrupted by said Dark Lord who seemed to have missed her a lot for the past two days, so much so, that ignoring the presence of Amycus who was standing by the library bookshelves a mere 10 feet away from Hermione, the Dark Lord pinned the latter down on the sofa she was sitting at and started undressing her. Thankfully, Amycus was smart enough to know that in this case, she didn't need to ask for permission to be dismissed, and so she had promptly left the room. Thus, academically speaking, Sunday had been wasted. So this Monday morning, Hermione was going to have to make up for that. Luckily, Voldemort had left the house early that day as he and his Death Eaters went on a hunt for Bellatrix who had been supposedly sighted in Scotland; so Hermione was left alone and with no one to bother her which suited her just fine for this task.

She woke, rolled out of bed, and in her silk night robe, sat herself at his large desk so she could read the contract more comfortably while taking notes. It was well past 11, when Deepti came in with a breakfast tray: the elf had gotten to know her all too well this past year, and so she knew that once the Missus got a hold of reading material, her body's needs became an afterthought.

"Thank you, Deepti," Hermione said, looking up briefly to join her statement with a smile before looking back down at the contract.

"Mistress needs anything else?"

"Not for now, thank you," she said with a sigh and continued scanning the passages looking for one that would catch her eye:

"No Death Eater may enter the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters at Grimmauld Place or any of its affiliates' housing." – that was Dumbledore's handwriting.

To which the Dark Lord had added, "and no Order Members (as well as you, Dumbledore), except the designated emissary, may enter my headquarters or any place that I deem private."

Hermione snorted; so if the Dark Lord decided to deem Britain as 'private', would they have to leave their own country? Unsurprisingly, Dumbledore had crossed out that statement and instead put in:

"46. No Death Eater, except the designated emissary and Lord Voldemort, may enter the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters at Grimmauld Place at the time of the signing of this contract, and they may also not enter any of its affiliates' housing unless given free consent by myself."

47. No Order Members, except the designated emissary, (excluding myself, Tom, since you are able to come to my headquarters) may enter your officially designated headquarters at the time of the signing of this contract, and they also may not enter your associates' private abodes unless given free consent by said owners."

And of course Voldemort had crossed out number 47 and added:

"47. No Order Members, except the designated emissary and Albus Dumbledore may enter the Dark Lord Voldemort's officially designated headquarters from the time of the signing of this contract, and they also may not enter any of my associates' private abodes unless given free consent by Lord Voldemort (you got to give consent over entry to your peoples' homes, so why take that power from me and give it to my Death Eaters? Are you trying to create a little loophole for yourself, Dumbledore? Tsk tsk . . . and right under my nonexistent nose, too . . . .")

Hermione laughed outloud at that. With a groan, she noticed that Dumbledore had crossed out the Dark Lord's # 47 and added his own take to it:

"46. No Death Eater, except the designated emissary and Lord Voldemort, may enter the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters at Grimmauld Place from the time of the signing of this contract until the end of said agreement, and they may also not enter any of its affiliates' housing unless given free consent by Albus Dumbledore.

47. No Order Members, except the designated emissary and Albus Dumbledore, may enter the Dark Lord Voldemort's officially designated headquarters from the time of the signing of this contract until the end of said agreement (trying to give yourself unfair postwar advantages, Tom? Tsk.. tsk…."), and they also may not enter any of Lord Voldemort's associates' private abodes unless given free consent by Lord Voldemort."

And of course Voldemort would never let the headmaster have the last say; so instead of initialing Dumbledore's clauses, he had copied them word by word with the only difference being the lack of underlining of the new terms and Dumbledore's comments:

"46. No Death Eater, except the designated emissary and Lord Voldemort, may enter the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters at Grimmauld Place from the time of the signing of this contract until the end of said agreement, and they may also not enter any of its affiliates' housing unless given free consent by Albus Dumbledore.

47. No Order Members, except the designated emissary and Albus Dumbledore may enter the Dark Lord Voldemort's officially designated headquarters from the time of the signing of this contract until the end of said agreement, and they also may not enter any of Lord Voldemort's associates' private abodes unless given free consent by Lord Voldemort."

Then he had put his initials next to both, and Dumbledore had decided to humor him by giving him the last say and had thankfully initialed the clauses as well.

_Great, moving on,_ Hermione thought, she could almost feel Dumbledore's frustration through the parchment, Voldemort had fought him in every single clause.

"48. Neither Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore nor Thomas Marvolo Riddle aka. Lord Voldemort (also identified as the Dark Lord, You-Know-Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or any other name that may be applied to Thomas Marvolo Riddle) nor any of their affiliates may try to turn the opposing side's emissary to their own side."

Hermione frowned and reread the passage; it had Voldemort's and Dumbledore's glowing initials on it which meant that it had gone on to become a binding clause. But that couldn't be because Voldemort was always trying to turn her to his side, he always mentioned it and alluded to it. Why had the vow let him?

She reread the passage a third time, this time outloud.

"(…) may try to turn the opposing side's emissary to their own side," Hermione whispered, "may try . . ."

Well he definitely was trying, and he wasn't shy about it either, yet somehow, the vow had overlooked it; so obviously that wasn't the problem area.

"Turn the opposing side's emissary."

Well, she was from the opposing side, she was an Order member . . . could having had sex with him had had something to do with it, maybe? Since it established a more intimate connection between them.

Well no, because what about before they had sex? He had also talked to her . . .

"Ohhhh," Hermione let out as realization hit, he hadn't started trying to actively recruit her until _after _they slept together. Before he may have told her about the extent of his knowledge and all the great things he could do, but technically he wasn't trying to turn her, he was simply informing her (even though the goal was to pique her interest and get her to join him.) After they slept together, and thus, became more than just emissary and host, he had started pursuing her change of sides with more tenacity.

"More than emissary and host . . . _more_ than an emissary!"

Hermione automatically pushed the scroll away from her so that it fell off the desk as she stood up.

_No, no, no, this could not be._

Frankly speaking, she was more than an emissary because of their affair, but that was on a technical side . . . on the physical side. It was not an emotional thing nor something that could've changed her allegiances because that would mean that there had been some serious reorganizing of the emotional furniture, so to speak.

But at the same time it made sense, say her suspicions were true, say that she wasn't really considered an emissary anymore, and was thus one of them . . . well that would explain why she was able to hit Malfoy, Death Eaters could hit other Death – but no, she would never consider herself a Death Eater. She might concede to having subconsciously joined Voldemort, but she had not done so as a Death Eater. So that was probably it, when Malfoy called her a Mudblood whore, she took it as an insult to herself, but subconsciously, she must've also taken it as an insult to Him which was more than likely why she was able to hit Draco. She had not taken that shot as an Order member or as a Death Eater, but rather as Voldemort's . . . partner. Okay, so that took care of the first punch, but what about the second? She had been stopped. Her motives must've changed then . . . she remembered feeling that intense rage and wanting to see Draco suffer . . . suffer for everything he had done to her and her friends . . . .

"That's it," she whispered, a feeling of numbness taking over, "Harry and Ron came to mind, I was pulled back to . . . my roots, my status as emissary and an Order member. Meanwhile, the Malfoys tried to hurt me, but they weren't able to because they saw me as an Order member."

Instantly, she felt drained of energy, this realization had, like water, filled her empty cup of knowledge and dissolved the sugar specks of excited curiosity present in her once empty cup. Normally, she would've been happy to have had her achingly empty cup filled, but now, she just wanted to empty the cup of its overflowing contents . . . it was too much.

Too many outcomes, too many assumptions, too many options, too many possible ways it could go wrong. Clutching her hair like a rabbit in the claws of an eagle, Hermione got up from the chair and started pacing, her nails digging into her scalp like a dog digging in earth. No, no, no, it meant nothing . . . it all meant nothing, it had to mean nothing . . . .

Hermione moaned shrilly and collapsed on velvet covers, it stroked and warmed the back of her thighs while their upper counterparts were peeled to shreds by her fumbling fingers and vicious nails. Her feet seemed to be protesting the treatment since there wasn't much her thighs could do, Hermione watched as they came on and off the floor in a mad jig; however, as much as she wanted to, she could not stop clawing into herself, it was her only release and punishment at the same time for having gotten so close to the Dark Lord. So close and not even realizing it, so close that the vow had grouped her with _his _kind, and she was now an exception to the rule, the rule she was supposed to be upholding, the rule she was supposed to be marrying!

"Oh god." Hermione stood up; the nails that had once terrorized their fellow body parts, now prey to her chattering teeth.

She was a traitor and of the worst kind, there could be no reprieve for a creature like herself, no, none at all. No, no, no, no warmth, Hermione looked around, the room seemed to have gotten colder in the past minutes, everything was so cold . . . her arms clasped her torso and Hermione leaned in toward the mockery of a hug, the only source of comfort in this blisteringly frigid environment her conscience had created.

It was when she tightened her hold on her waist and folded her head towards her body more deeply, that she opened her eyes, and the ring greeted her.

Instantly, the blanket of comfort she had been given, grew holes and through those holes blew her guilty torment once more.

This whole time she had denied that her and Voldemort's relationship was more than just physical, more than what would cause the contract to shift, more than what would make her shift, but now she knew that that hadn't been the case. Maybe the fact that she so vehemently denied it and would reassure herself of the fact every time she convulsed in ecstasy under him, was an indication. Maybe the fact that she looked for excuses to not see her fiancé or any of those people, no HER people!

"My people, Hermione, for fuck's sake!" she wailed while pulling at her hair, "what is wrong with me?"

It all pointed to one thing: she knew deep down that her feelings for the Dark Lord had thickened, thickened like tree roots to the point where they could no longer stay under the even sidewalk, no longer could they stay as invisible witnesses and facilitators for the tree's greatness; no, they would have to show themselves at some point, breaking through the concrete like a baby bird through its captive shell. Problem was that the brunette didn't want to know what made the tree so wonderful and awe-inspiring, no no, she wanted to keep believing that it was what it was simply because and not because of any things that might be going on under the surface. No, it had to all be superficial and physical, but it wasn't, it so terribly wasn't! And the roots were thick! Thick and gnarly, twisted around each other like lovers in sheets. . .

"_It's just sex, Hermione," he had breathed against her newly bought French pearl earrings, his hands had been undoing the front of the dress she was so desperately trying to keep close, "give into it, darling, you know you want it and beside what's the harm in it? It's just physical."_

And she had let him push her up against the closet door of her hotel room in Paris.

It had just been starting at that point, she could've stopped it. She could've ignored him and realized that for him, it was only physical because that's all he could express, physicality, he knew nothing of human emotions, was allowed to know nothing of human emotions.

"_You like it, Hermione?" he said unevenly as he thrust into her writhing form with each word, "you like it when I make love to you? You like to feel my hot love in you?"_

'_Ah!" Hermione had let out after particularly vicious thrusts._

"_Answer me, witch!"_

"_Yes! Yes!"_

When had she started believing it? Was it the mere repetition of the word that truly made her love him? When had it gone from sex babble to something much more elevated and romanticized? Was it the cuddling after or the way he would kiss her face and hands? What part of his charade had been successful?

"_What does love feel like?"_

_Hermione snapped her eyes off the plain white ceiling, a ceiling that had minutes before been covered with stars in her haze of pleasure._

"_What?"_

"_You heard me," he repeated calmly, the sheets pooled around his hips while leaving the rest of him as exposed as Hermione felt._

"_It's . . . not something that can be easily described," she broke off while trying to find a way to answer his question, this child's question because that's what it was: it was something that no one put to words because it was so universal that people never bothered to truly define it. "It's . . . caring for a person so much, that you would put their needs before yours, put their happiness before yours, put a higher price tag on their life than yours . . . " she had trailed off while searching for a hint of understanding in those deep and turbulent eyes of his, a hint of recognition . . . a hint of remembrance or desire to achieve what they spoke of._

"_So you would forfeit yourself for someone else? Willingly?"_

"_It's not that simple, Tom, you can't boil it down to that," Hermione had muttered while turning away disappointed. She should've known that at that moment, she had given him the first stone to build her prison with. _

The prison she was now realizing she was in. The cold, cold prison of reality that had viciously dug its claws into her unsuspecting self.

Rocking back and forth, the repetitive bumping of her head on the bedroom wall akin to the chiming of the bell for her execution, Hermione stayed on the hard floor for how many chimes of the grandfather clock in the corner, she had no idea . . . it didn't matter: time no longer mattered when you were in prison.

All one could do in prison was think about their crime and all the people they'd wronged, that's what made it so terrifying, and Hermione had never thought that that would be her fate, but as it turned out, she wasn't as innocent and righteous as she always liked to believe she was:

She had cheated on her fiancé, and been doing so for close to a year now, and while she had tried to convince herself that she was doing it for the sake of the Order, the real reason was that she could not fathom stopping because she was too invested in Him. She had gotten so used to Him that she could no longer picture her life without him, and she hated him for it because she knew that the Dark Lord had had this in mind from the moment they sealed the Alliance at Dumbledore's office. He had been working her from that moment on, and Hermione had unknowingly had the wool pulled over her eyes. She had kept her wits about her, she had known exactly what he was capable of, and who he was from the moment they entered into the Alliance; yet she had still been taken for a ride by him, and that was something that she could never forgive herself for.

She could've been stronger, more distrusting . . . more everything.

The last thing she should've done was become entranced by his person, by his intelligence, his presence, his outfits, just him as a whole had blinded her and charmed her in a way that she had never fathomed. He had charmed her in such a way that she followed him like dutiful dog all this time: admiring him, making excuses for his transgressions against her, giving him second chances . . . .

And now, now that she was finally realizing how deep she was in, so deep that there was no way out for her: she was emotionally trapped and at his mercy.

"Hermione."

Said girl didn't acknowledge him; instead, her head banging against the wall filled the void of silence that had fallen over the room when he entered.

She watched his polished, black crocodile skin shoes that were right in front of her; then she heard his knees crack and her view of his shoes was obscured by his robes that covered his now crouching person like a dark halo.

"Hermione, what happened?"

She swatted his hand as it grabbed her chin and tried to turn her face to look at his.

"Leave me alone, Voldemort," she finally said, her voice tense.

"You don't look well enough to be left alone," he countered.

That made Hermione's furious eyes snap onto his red ones which flashed with triumph at having achieved what he wanted, and as soon as Hermione realized that she had been manipulated out of her silence by him, the lid on her emotions was blown right off.

"Oh, cut the bullshit, Tom! You don't care about my wellbeing, you were just saying that to get me to respond to you!" she threw her arms up and followed his gaze as he stood back up followed by her, "well congratulations, you got what you wanted! Woo hoo, gold star for you, you made a great move that shows just how adept you are at winning in the pathetic little game you call a life! Because that's all you do, Tom, you play people, I know that now, and I don't know how I was stupid enough to think that there might have been more to you!"

Hermione was further incensed by the frown taking over his face, he had clearly not been expecting this reaction, and she noticed that she was making him angry by his tightly clutched fist, and so she went on, throwing her arms up for a greater impact.

"But now I know, now I know what a sad and two-dimensional figure you are! I mean, you might as well be made out of cardboard!" she shrieked, "because you're not human! No human being could stand to have a chessboard for a life like you do! No person could lead such an empty and pointless life –!"

"Hermione, this rant is totally uncalled for, and it stops right now," he said tightly.

Hermione laughed and threw her back as she walked over to him. "Or what, Tom? What happens if I don't stop? What happens if I continue to paint you the most accurate portrait you will ever have of yourself, huh?"

"You're crazy," he said and turned away calmly.

"I'M crazy?" Hermione while pointing at herself, her anger reignited at his calm demeanor, "well, Mr. High and Mighty, if _I'm_ the one that's crazy, then you won't mind if I continue telling you what a sad specimen you are because what else do you call someone that gets off by manipulating people? Someone that has no thrill in life other than what he gets out of turning people into his pawns? What is that?"

"It's a calming potion," he said as he walked away from his cabinet and towards her while holding a vial.

"For yourself I hope, because that is getting nowhere near my throat!" Hermione snapped as she backed away.

"We can't talk until you're calm," he said quietly, while uncorking it and coming towards her.

"No, Tom, I'm done with you!" Hermione snapped and went around him; however, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her violently back. Hermione screamed and tried to twist out of his grip; in their struggle, she knocked the potion out of his hand, and it fell and spilled over the carpet.

For a few seconds after it happened, they both stared at the vial, the contents of which were spreading easily over the Persian carpet by the bed. Hermione looked up as soon as she felt his glare on the side of her face. He was furious, she could tell by the increasing pressure with which he was grabbing her arm even though his face remained stoic albeit tight around the jaw area.

"It's over, Tom," she whispered, "I know everything, and I won't fall for any more of your manipulations."

He studied her, his eyes boring into hers. Then, he did the thing that most annoyed Hermione: his lips twitched and morphed into a sideways smirk.

"You have some nerve, honey," Hermione gasped as he roughly pulled her towards him so that she fell on his chest, "very convenient and I daresay, Slytherin, of you to put all the blame on me and make yourself the poor helpless damsel."

Hermione tried to twist her arm out of his grip and pull her face away from him, but he grabbed a hold of her waist and pulled her taut against him.

"I never forced you to sleep with me, and I never forced you to spend time with me; we certainly didn't have to eat our meals together and alone, " Hermione turned her face away from his, but he grabbed her cheeks and roughly turned her back to face him, "What? You don't want to watch as I paint the most accurate portrait you will ever have of yourself?"

Hermione felt tears running down her face and onto his fingers, which were still digging into her cheeks.

"Fine, I admit that I did manipulate you to an extent, but don't try to act like you're some brainless underling that would fall in my trap without even realizing it. You knew full well what you were getting into when you accepted this position, you knew what I was capable of, and what I would try to achieve, and it was all these things that made you want to come near me all the more. You wanted to study me, and you thought that knowing what you knew about me, you would be at a higher position that would enable you to resist my manipulations, but what you didn't realize is that the art of manipulation isn't limited to actions that I undertake, rather it is the whole package I present, things like my personality or my looks, all these things that I have no control over, they just are how they are and _that_ is what won you over."

Hermione couldn't bring herself to contradict him; so instead she just shook her head over and over again.

"Haven't you read clause 48? It clearly says that I am not allowed to turn the Order's emissary to my side. That prohibits me from actively recruiting you, and I knew this; so I didn't even try. However, I knew you would gravitate towards me on your own accord due to my persona as a whole, which I am told, can be quite impossible to dislike." His smirk caused Hermione to look away, she was no longer crying, but the last thing she wanted was to see his gloating face. "So you see, I didn't manipulate you in that critical first stage, you let yourself be seduced by my person which caused us to become more than emissary and host, which then voided clause 48. Thus, from then on, I was allowed to openly manipulate you, but I rarely did since you were already too invested in me by that point."

"Shut up, Tom, just shut it," Hermione muttered, her arms twisting in his grasp.

"The sooner you come to terms with it, the easier it will be, Hermione," he said while bringing her closer to him and forcing her to look up at him, "by denying it you're not doing yourself any favors."

"Denying what?"

"Denying that you let yourself go."

It was Hermione's turn to smirk. "Oh I admit that I let myself go, and that I should've never set foot on your threshold, but I would be stupid to believe, as you want me to, that all the blame lies on me. It' s true, that you didn't force me to dine with you or spend time with you, but you were the one that came onto me, you were the one that told me about your advanced magical knowledge fully knowing that you were baiting me. You were the one that kept reassuring me that what was going between us was just physical since you knew that if I became aware of my growing feelings for you, I would have left. So you reassured me that ours was just physical until you knew for sure that my involvement with you was cemented. This proof you had been seeking came when I had my fight with Malfoy; so then, you no longer cared to keep it a secret, and you decided to let me find out."

Silence greeted her speech, Hermione fixed him with her eyes as she dared him to admit the truth. However, he pulled her towards him instead and captured her lips in a kiss which Hermione immediately rejected by slapping him.

"Admit it, Tom, admit what a scumbag you were to me," she hissed.

"Only if it will make you fuck me," he snapped looking breathless, his eyes were glittering with suppressed lust.

"Never," she hissed and once more tried to wrench herself from his grip; however, he slipped his foot behind her legs and tripped her so that she fell on the bed at which point he climbed over her protesting self. "Tom, get off me!" she yelled at him and continued attempting to claw her way out of his grasp.

"Fuck, woman, stop moving around so much," he snapped while trying to subdue the flailing Hermione; after a few more seconds of fighting, the girl finally collapsed on the bed exhausted. She turned her head away from him as he started to bite and kiss her neck, his hands were still holding down her wrists on the pillows with great strength. Deciding her strategy, Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat and turned back to him so his lips would find hers. Once they did, she wrapped her leg over his and gently stroked the inside of his leg making the fabric of his pants crackle along with the bedcover. Slowly, his hands moved from her wrists to her cheeks as he held her face and intensified their kiss, Hermione utilized her leg's position to flip them over so that she was on top, and before his hands could land back on her, Hermione had jumped off him and cast a wave of her magic to hold him down temporarily so that she could make her escape.

In her haste, she almost tripped over a pillow that had fallen from the bed and as she recovered, she saw him getting up and raising his hand towards her. Instinctively, Hermione brandished her wand at him and put up a shield charm focusing all her energy on it to make it as robust as possible.

To her surprise, however, his spell went right past herself and her shield and landed on the door which shut and locked like that of a bank vault. Hermione's heart clenched at this, and she started panicking as she realized she was trapped.

"Come here, Hermione," he said quietly, but pointedly.

"No," Hermione replied, more out of spite than anything because she knew he could force her.

"I don't want to hurt you, Hermione."

The mock caress in his voice made Hermione's heart speed up to unprecedented levels. Suddenly, as if to answer her prayer, there was a pop and Albus Dumbledore Apparated between herself and the Dark Lord. Hermione let out a sigh of relief, but wondered how he had known to come.

"Hermione, what's going on?" Dumbledore asked while coming close to her, "your earrings called me."

The brunette raised her fingers to the faux diamond studs on her earlobes and gave them a caress of gratitude, she'd forgotten about them . . . .

"It's . . . "

However, she didn't know what to say, she didn't even know if she wanted to say it, her indecision exacerbated her panic and before she knew it, tears were once more leaking out from her eyes.

In response, the headmaster put his arms around her, and Hermione buried her face in his sweet smelling robes as she started sobbing.

"Tom, what did you do to her?" she heard Dumbledore snap.

"Absolutely nothing, it's just her time of the month."

"No it's not, you fucking asshole!" Hermione yelled at him, she saw the fury in his eyes, but she didn't care, she felt like she could take him on now that Dumbledore was here.

"What did he do, Hermione?" Albus pressed on.

"Tell him, Hermione, tell him what you learned today," Voldemort drawled while coming over to them, Hermione instinctively drew back from him and further into Dumbledore's embrace. The Dark Lord sniffed at this and rolled his eyes while throwing up his hands as he went past them, "my hero!" he said in a mock voice while opening the door and walking out.

Dumbledore and Hermione followed him out into his office where he made a beeline for the bar and started preparing a drink.

"Hermione loves me, Dumbledore, but she's having trouble processing that," the Dark Lord didn't look up as he placed two ice cubes in his empty glass. Hermione wanted to contradict him, but she knew that that would be a waste of time. Unfortunately, he was right, she was in love him. "You know, Albus, maybe it' a good thing you're here, you are after all love's greatest spokesperson; so you can help Hermione come out of her stupor." He smiled and poured scotch into the glass.

Hermione was slightly taken back by Voldemort's frankness with the headmaster regarding their relationship, it seemed those two had been doing a lot more talking than she'd been let in on. She looked up at Dumbledore who was staring at her with a deep frown on his forehead.

"Hermione and I will be going to my office, Tom, I'll bring her back later." Dumbledore looked back towards the Dark Lord to see his reaction; the latter rolled his eyes and swept from behind the bar, drink in hand.

"Fine, go, go . . . go and commiserate over the evil dark wizards you both had the misfortune of falling for, " he sat down with a sigh in his chair, "poor, innocent, little white lambs you both are."

"Come on, Hermione," Dumbledore said while giving her arms a squeeze and making her walk with him, the brunette threw the Dark Lord another glare, his taunting demeanor and expression was infuriating.

Once they were out of the Dark Lord's quarters, Dumbledore put his arm around her once more. Hermione buried her face in his robes and sighed deeply while closing her eyes and feeling themselves being Apparated away.

Next time she opened her eyes, they were back in Hogwarts at the headmaster's office. A wave of nostalgia went over Hermione as she looked around; even though it hadn't been that long since she'd been there, for some reason it felt like she was back at Hogwarts after decades of being away. _In a way maybe she was_, she mused while taking a seat and waiting for Dumbledore to do the same, _with the turn that their world had taken after those blissful Hogwarts years . . . and yet she still slept with him, the reason why her home was no longer as idyllic as it once was._

New tears welled in her eyes.

"Hermione."

It took a few seconds for her hazy gaze to meet the headmaster's.

"I don't know what to say," Hermione said quietly while clasping her hands on her lap, a dejected look on her face, "and I certainly don't know what to do."

"Hermione . . . " Dumbledore trailed off and bowed his head, "this . . . is not the end of the world, you are simply at a crossroad . . . a major crossroad, and you must now decide which way to go."

Hermione looked up at him.

"If you choose to stay with us, a lot of good things could come from this because you are in a very unique position against him: he is so sure of your love for him, that he doesn't see you as a threat anymore, he thinks he's won you over," Dumbledore's voice was soft as ever, but his eyes were looking at her with the intensity reserved for a pivotal moment as this was turning into. "You could destroy him for us, Hermione, you could end this war . . . you are no longer bound by the vow or the contract since you are no longer considered an emissary . . . and he would not take precautions against you because he doesn't see you as a threat."

Hermione choked on her last remaining tears and stared at the headmaster with disbelief. "What are you implying I do?"

"He has to be stopped, Hermione," Dumbledore replied lowly, "and you are in the perfect position to do it."

"What?" now sure of what he was asking, Hermione pushed her chair back and stood up abruptly. "Merlin, you're just like him!"

"Hermione, I am asking you to kill a terrorist, a man that has preyed on the innocent for the past 4 decades, a man that will otherwise destroy this world and kill off the people you consider your friends, and I don't think that's too much to ask! What is the vow that you took when you joined the Order, Hermione? Do you remember? You vowed to rid the world of Lord Voldemort!"

"Yes, but not like this! I'm not cut out for this!" Hermione went on, "As much as I may hate to admit it, I love him, and I could never ever . . ." she choked again as tears welled back in her eyes.

Dumbledore came around his desk and took her hands giving them a firm squeeze. "Hermione, I'm not going to force you to do anything," he said, "but I do want you to know your options and make the correct decision, because remember, Hermione, that as much as you might not like hearing this, the future of the Wizarding and Muggle world is in your hands now, not Harry's, and whatever you choose will impact the lives of millions."

"Stop it, just stop, I don't want to hear it right now_, I can't_ . . . ."

"That's fine, Hermione, I understand," Dumbledore said slowly, "but just remember to choose what is right, and not what is easy."

Hermione remained silent as she tried to reign in her thoughts, her panicked mind was not letting her think straight and she hated that.

"Professor, why weren't you surprised when Voldemort told you I loved him?"

"I could tell by how you've been acting, we discussed your attraction for him a while ago, and lately you seemed very eager to go back with him whenever you came to headquarters."

Hermione stared at him looking unconvinced; his answer didn't sit well with her gut.

"You don't trust me anymore, Hermione? Is that how far he has you wrapped around his finger?"

"No," Hermione replied brusquely, "it's just that everything seems a little too convenient . . . almost like it was planned."

"I never planned for you to fall for him, Hermione, that was your choice, and you should start taking responsibility for this scenario you find yourself in rather than blaming others."

Hermione tightened her lips and forced herself to remain quiet as she was too exhausted to start a fight the Dumbledore; however, tired as she may be, a year of living with Voldemort had made her an expert at recognizing table turning, and she could tell that Dumbledore had done just that.

"I'll be spending the night at my parents," Hermione said with a sigh while walking to the fireplace. "Goodbye."

* * *

The sun was just beginning to set when Ginny finally decided to go back home, she had been in the café all afternoon, and she had already read both her books. With a resigned sigh, she realized she had to go back to her "prison" as she had started calling Grimmauld Place.

As always, she decided to take the long way home and walk to the Leaky Cauldron before Apparating from there, it would give her more time to breath in the fresh evening air.

Just as she was walking past Flourish and Botts, she felt a hand grasping her upper arm, Ginny turned to see what acquaintance she had run into; however, she was taken back by the unknown woman holding her arm.

"Do I know you?"

"Of course you do, Weasley, now keep your mouth shut and look happy." Ginny knew she was in deep shit when she felt a wand tip prodding into her ribs. To her horror, they veered into an alley, but instead of stopping there this woman led her down until they reached another completely deserted alley on their right. Before she could pull out her wand once she was let go, the woman had summoned Ginny's wand and pocketed it. "Not quite that fast, are we?"

"Who are you?"

"Forgotten me already? Oh, I'm hurt, Ginnykins, after all, we are practically family . . . ."

The redhead frowned and swallowed before responding. "Bellatrix?"

A smile was her answer.

"What do you want from me, Bellatrix?" Ginny snapped, she was surprised that Bellatrix had referred to themselves as practically family which meant that she knew about Draco . . . oh boy, she could see where this was going . . . .

"I need you to get me the Imperius potion that the Dark Lord provided Dumbledore."

"What makes you think I know where that is kept?" Ginny snapped.

"I don't care if you know or don't know, I just want you to get it for me."

"Or what? You know you can't hurt me because of the vow." Ginny folded her arms up and glared at her. Bellatrix smiled and raised her wand as Ginny's bravado slowly wavered.

"Crucio!"

To Ginny's surprise and agony, the curse landed her on her back and at the mercy of the invisible knives and torture devices she had hoped to never get acquainted with again.

"Has that answered your question, bloodtraitor?" Bellatrix said sweetly while Ginny closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath before standing up shakily. "I am no longer a Death Eater, you see, so I can do whatever I please to you and all of your little buddies at home!"

"What do you want the potion for, Bellatrix?" Ginny snapped.

"To take down the Dark Lord, of course, so it is actually in your best interest to give it to me."

"Really? Well then why don't you ask Dumbledore directly?"

"Why would I go to a complete stranger when I have someone that's practically family who can get it for me?" Bellatrix said sweetly. "After all, I hear wedding bells in the near future for you and Draco."

Ginny was mute; she knew what Bellatrix was dangling over her.

"A big secret you've been keeping from your family and everyone else . . . could you imagine what they would do if they found out? Shun you at least . . . and more likely, declare you a traitor. "

"I'm not going to collaborate with you, Bellatrix," Ginny said.

"You really are a traitor then, you don't want to help me take down the Dark Lord?"

"Not this way because it will affect the Order negatively, if the Dark Lord is killed, we will be left with no protection against the ministry, and we aren't yet ready to fight them."

"You'll get me the potion, Weasley!" Bellatrix snapped suddenly, she was looking frazzled now, clearly worried about being discovered even though she was polyjuiced. "Or Draco is dead, and you know I'm not jesting!"

With a wave of her wand, Ginny was thrown on the ground while Bellatrix cast a silencing charm around the perimeter.

"But maybe you just need a little more convincing . . . Crucio!"

Only the crows at the tops of the buildings heard the redhead's pained screams, and they flew away squawking in fright.


	15. Chapter 15

Thanks so much to everyone for waiting patiently, I know my waits are long, but real life unfortunately comes first. : (

Lots of hugs for the sweet comments of: scabior's girl, alannalove1990, ilaaris, mollyanne274, kou shun'u, itsuptoyou, agirlcalledtori, xxxfleur-delacourxxx, noshin, unwritten muses, riddle crazy, Nerys, Patricia de Lioncourt, Serpent in red, furysphere, Dee, Dramione-fan 17, Inkfire, rena Katsueki, sweet-tang-honey, david boreanaz's wife 247, gsalilsecret, armanifan101.

HP world is JK's, and I do not make any money off these writings.

* * *

Hermione felt strangely calm that night, much calmer than she would've imagined she'd be on this day. She had gone over it many times in her head, coming up with breathing exercises and outfits that would boost her morale and prevent her from breaking down and backing out of this now, inevitable occurrence. However, this morning she had needed none of that, she had spent the night crying to her mother and had told her everything. Everything she had been keeping bottled up inside her she spilt, and her mother had advised her to do what Hermione had been thinking of the entire time, and that was just what she was going to do now as she sat by the window of the Muggle cafe.

Of course, Hermione had withheld the most important piece of information from her mother: Tom's true identity. Her mother only remembered the polite young man from dinner who she now knew her daughter had been cheating with. Hermione still had trouble coming to terms with such a harsh expression, but it was the truth, and she was tired of running from it. Just like tonight, she would face another truth she had been putting off for over a year: breaking up with Ron.

It had been the first thing on the 'To Do' list she made for herself last night. Making lists had always been Hermione's safety blanket in highly stressful moments and this would most likely be the most stressful time in her life; so it was imperative that she keep her head above the tempestuous waters that were bent on drowning her.

Hermione drank deeply from her coffee mug as she waited for her fiancé, the diamond ring that had been on her finger for so long, now gone, and in its box by the end of the table. Her hand looked very empty without the ring, Hermione mused as she placed the mug down and continued waiting for Ron who had been held back at work.

She really, really, hoped they could remain friends (at least until he found out who she was infatuated with), she knew it was childish of her, but how could she come to terms with losing a friendship she had had for over 10 years?

_You're going to lose two friendships by the time all this is over_, her mind offered, and Hermione bit her lip in response, she did not want to think about that right now.

Her hands tightened their hold on the mug as she heard rapid footsteps coming up from behind her, and her heart sped up as she repeated to herself the reasons why this was necessary.

"Hey," Ron said as he placed his hand on her shoulder and leaned down towards Hermione who had turned to look up at him; before she could stop him, he had kissed her, it was a peck, but it still made the brunette uncomfortable. With a sigh, she tucked her hair behind her ears and smiled shyly at Ron who had taken a seat in front of her. "So, how are you? What's going on?"

"I just have something really important to discuss with you," Hermione said quietly.

"Are you okay?" his expression instantly sobered, and he placed his hand over her clammy one.

"Ron," Hermione looked away, "stop it." She pulled her hand from under his, why did he have to be so caring? Was she making a mistake?

"Hermione, what's going on?" Ron looked worriedly at her before gazing at her hand once more. "Where's your ring? Did you lose it? Is this what this is about?"

"No, no," Hermione said quickly to prevent herself from choking up as she reached for the velvet box she had hidden behind the napkin holder, she placed it in between them, gave it one final pat and looked up at Ron who was staring at the box, a twitch in his quickly paling jowls.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" he said softly while looking up.

"I can't do it, Ron," she said quietly, "I've realized that I don't see you as a husband or even a boyfriend, I see you as a friend, one of my best friends, and all these years I tried to tell myself that that would change, but it hasn't."

Hermione broke off and looked down at her mug as she waited for him to say something,

"Is there someone else?"

Hermione looked up alarmed. "Why would there be someone else?"

"Well, why have you realized this now? Why not before? Now that we barely see each other is when you come to this magical realization! So you must have someone else, you must've had someone else this entire time! He's a Death Eater isn't he? That's why you wanted to be emissary so badly, so you could go and continue screwing him without having me as a roadblock!"

"Ronald Weasley, lower your voice!" Hermione hissed, "and how dare you even suggest that I would do any of that! I got into this position to help bring this war to an end, and that has nothing to do with my breaking up with you! We are simply not compatible, Ron!"

"Not compatible! How were we friends all these years then, Hermione? I mean, are you even you? Who are you? I feel like I don't even know you anymore!" He yelled even louder, this time people stared and didn't look away. Hermione cursed the fact that she had chosen a public place to do this, but at the same time knew that she was far safer in public than alone in a room with an enraged Ron who lacked all control once his temper got the best of him. "I mean what the fuck, Hermione!"

"Ron, we are not compatible as a couple is what I meant, you were and still are the best friend I ever had." Hermione couldn't help her voice cracking at the end and her eyes filling with tears.

"You are so full of shit, Hermione, because a friend wouldn't do this to another friend."

Hermione swallowed at seeing Ron's crazed eyes, he was clearly livid, and he didn't even know the half of it . . . .

"Why do you assume that this is just about you?" Hermione finally snapped as she wiped her now angry tears from her eyes, "See this is your problem, Ron, it's all about you! It's all about what makes you happy, it's never about me!"

"Hey! Excuse me, but if you two want to argue you can go do that somewhere private," a man who Hermione assumed was the manager of the café said as he came towards the wizards who were now standing. Her face reddened considerably when she saw all the people staring at them and whispering amongst themselves.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said quickly and took out a five pound note which she left on the table, "we'll go."

"I won't!" snapped Ron, and Hermione jumped when he shoved the chair against the wall so that it fell over, "I am done here, I am done with all this fucking bullcrap! I don't know this whore, Merlin, knows how many cocks she's been sucking behind my back!"

Fumbling, Hermione grabbed her coat and bag. Her teary vision was preventing her from seeing properly, but she felt the need to leave right now, she hated Ron, she absolutely hated him right now.

"What? You don't have anything to say, best friend in the world?"

"LET GO, RON!" Hermione shrieked as he grabbed her by the arm and slammed her against the wall; through her hazy, tear-filled vision, she saw the shop owner and one of the men nearby stand up and pull Ron off her, Hermione stumbled back as the blows and insults started going around, and she ran out of the shop sobbing hysterically. Hermione ducked her head and tried to avoid the people walking as she turned into a small and darkened, residential street. Hermione sped up her walking and brushed away her tears as she looked up to make sure she was alone. Once her solitude was confirmed, she sat down at the bus stop and sighed while collecting her frantic thoughts. She had to keep her cool . . . .

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes as she willed her negative emotions away and focused on bringing out the positive and calming magic in her to block the spread of its wild and emotional counterpart that was intoxicating her body and unstabling her mind. Once she was sufficiently controlled, Hermione stood up and Disapparated from the deserted street to right outside of Dumbledore's office.

Just as she had hoped, the headmaster was sitting behind his desk while writing on some parchment and drinking tea out of a mug. He looked up when she entered and put down his quill.

"Hermione?"

"I just wanted to let you know that tonight I broke up with Ron; I will be going to Voldemort now and telling him that so he will assume that I will be joining him and all remaining suspicion will be lifted." Her curt tone was received by the headmaster with a small smile, and he got up and went around to grasp her hands in his.

"It's a good thing you're doing, Hermione, you will be a true hero of this war."

Hermione nodded and looked away hurriedly, once more reigning in her emotions. "If it's all for the greater good."

"Always."

With one final squeeze to her hands, Albus stepped back.

"What did you tell Ronald?"

"That we weren't compatible, and that I saw him as a friend, not a husband," Hermione said quickly, "and it's all true."

Dumbledore nodded.

"He thinks it's because I'm cheating on him with one of the Death Eaters though . . . and he's probably informed the entire Order of that by now."

"I'll take care of it, Hermione, but don't worry about it, just think about when all of this is over, and we'll be able to reveal the whole plan. Then, they will all hail you as a hero."

"I don't want to be a hero, I just want to do what's right."

"And you don't need to look too hard to realize you are," the headmaster responded gently.

Hermione nodded while heading towards the Floo. "Let's hope."

"Good luck, Hermione, and if you need anything at all, let me know."

Hermione was only able to see Dumbledore's face for brief seconds before it blurred into a haze of colors. To avoid the Dark Lord, Hermione purposely willed herself to floo down into the mansion's kitchen. However upon landing, Hermione was surprised to open her eyes and find herself in the Dark Lord's office. Hermione stepped out cautiously as she watched him sitting behind his desk shuffling some papers. Out of the corner of his eye, she saw him glance at her.

"I had a meeting scheduled this morning, but because someone didn't show her face and wouldn't answer my owls, I had to postpone it."

Hermione crossed her arms. "You never told me you had a meeting scheduled, and I didn't get any of the owls."

"Well maybe if you hadn't stormed off last night to cry your eyes out with Dumbledore," he said in a curt voice while refusing to look up, "you would've allowed me the time to tell you."

"Well maybe if someone hadn't tried to rape me, I wouldn't have needed consoling."

Hermione turned and started walking towards his door.

"If I arranged for you to floo into my office it is because I wish to have a talk with you."

"'Wish' being the keyword," Hermione snapped, hand on the door handle. Just when she was turning it, her breath was robbed from her by a curse she had hoped to never feel again. After what felt like hours, the blinding lights from the overhead chandelier stilled and slowly came back to focus.

"Any more witty remarks?"

Hermione bolted upright, not so insulted by his bored tone as by his actions.

"You're not allowed to torture me!"

Then, almost as she said it, the answer came to her and Hermione groaned as her head lolled to the side in resignation. She heard him chuckle over the rustling of paper.

"Another perk of having bedded you . . . now come."

Keeping her grumbling and eye-rolling to a minimum, Hermione got off the floor and walked over to his desk making sure to keep a good three feet between herself and his desk.

"Sit."

Hermione clenched her fists on her lap as she softly lowered herself in the seat facing him, the fact that the Alliance vow they had taken for her protection was void, and she was now at his mercy, was making her stomach do somersaults.

"Why so tense?" he asked softly.

"Maybe because I feel like the Order's sacrificial offering," Hermione let out tensely.

He chuckled at this and slid out of his chair and over to hers.

"Oh but you have nothing to worry about. It's very simple really, just make sure you do as I say and don't get on my wrong side," he purred while stroking Hermione's cheek with his thumb.

"Right because that is so hard to do," Hermione muttered sarcastically as she turned away from him.

"Well, aren't we snarky today." Hermione's fear was renewed when he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up roughly so that they were facing each other with only millimeters of space. "Perhaps it has something to do with what you and Dumbledore talked about?"

At this, Hermione immediately shut down her mind, but this did not go unnoticed by the Dark Lord who snarled and tightened his hold on her arm before pushing her up on him and grabbing her face so he could go inside her mind.

Cutting through Hermione's defenses as easily as a knife through warm butter, the Dark Lord went into the maze of her mind at which point Hermione immediately tried to get her conversation with Dumbledore out of her thoughts; however, at the very mention of it, the image flashed into her head along with the dialogue.

Upon seeing it, the Dark Lord dove in after the image, but before he could get to it. The memory closed up by itself and fled into the recesses of her mind, and Hermione, still in shock, found that no matter how much she thought about her conversation, no images or memories popped into her head. It was a strange feeling to say the least.

Snarling and whining like a thwarted toddler, Voldemort shoved Hermione away from him causing her to trip over the chair and fall onto the carpet.

"The vow is void so why can't I see your conversation with Dumbledore!"

Hermione covered her head as a letter tray from his desk swooped off the latter and landed on the floor with a clatter, the papers in it strewn all over the floor.

"Because that has to do with Order matters; so the vow must still be in place. It's just the protection clauses set up for me that have been voided," Hermione said meekly.

Silence greeted her statement, and after a while its prolonged existence caused Hermione to look up in alarm.

She watched him standing over her for a few seconds before extending his hand for her to take. Hesitantly, she allowed him to help her up and prepared herself for another round of rough treatment, but instead, she was surprised when he pulled her towards him into a hug.

"I swear you're bipolar," Hermione muttered while leaning her forehead on his chest and letting out an exhausted and tension-filled sigh.

"Well, if I'm bipolar then you definitely are too," he purred into her hair, "because just moments ago you were so furious with me you didn't even want to floo to my office and look at you now."

Hermione's bushy head shook against his chest as she sighed.

"I'm tired," Hermione said quietly, "I'm so tired of living in tension."

He tightened his embrace and kissed the top of her head as he muttered, "you could make your life easier by getting off the fence and joining me."

"I could never go against them," Hermione replied while stepping out of his embrace.

"Well then leave me and go back with your little friends." His scathing tone made Hermione throw him a glare,"I'm serious. Once you do that, we will go back to being enemies like old time's sake."

"I don't appreciate the sarcasm," Hermione snapped and walked off towards the door.

"I'm not being sarcastic, I'm serious. If you feel that you can't join me because you can't betray the light side, then you should have no problem going back to them and seeing me as the enemy once more."

The frankness in his voice made Hermione stop in her tracks, but she refused to turn around as she heard his steps coming closer to her.

"But you know that I can't do that," Hermione said shakily while wiping away the few tears that had sprung in her eyes and biting down on her finger, "that I could _never_ do that."

Hermione's composure broke when she felt his hands on her arms, and she turned towards him with a sob that he silenced with his lips. Sighing happily, Hermione relaxed into the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him closer, if only they could stay like this forever . . . with his warm lips moving firmly over hers in a passionate kiss.

* * *

Ginny nodded absentmindedly as Harry went on and on with his grievances against Draco. This week alone he had used a permanent sealing charm on Harry's trunk; replaced the lenses from Harry's glasses with plain glass lenses which resulted in Harry thinking he was losing his vision, and locked Harry out of his room by changing the locks.

It would've all been funny if it weren't happening so often, and if Ginny didn't have Bellatrix's threat from the night before to think about.

"He's such a slimy little git, you know? I should probably start playing some pranks of my own on him," Harry went on, "like maybe switch out his hair gel with cement gel." He laughed. "Oh yes! He'd have to shave off all his hair! That would teach that conceited little asshole!"

"Don't you think that would violate the vow?" Ginny said attempting to sound offhand, truth was she did not share Hermione's taste for bald men.

"It's not life threatening so the vow should allow it," Harry said placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing it. Instantly, Ginny tensed up slightly as she looked up at him just in time to see him let go of her shoulder and give a shy grin. "You think Ron would help me?"

"Well, he does share your dislike for Malfoy . . . " Ginny muttered while turning to look back out her window and at the street.

"Yeah . . . okay, well you want to come down? Dinner will be ready soon and Ron is probably on his way here."

"I'll be down in a minute," Ginny said with a smile.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked suddenly, eyes narrowed slightly.

"Yeah, I'm just having a weird day." Ginny smiled and shrugged, "just need a little bit of time on my own."

Harry nodded and returned her smile before leaving the room silently at which point Ginny moaned loudly and dropped her head onto her knees. She had absolutely no idea what to do. She didn't want to get the potion for Bellatrix, but Ginny knew that if she didn't do this, Bellatrix would tell both her parents' and Draco's about their relationship after which she was sure she would never be allowed to see Draco or go out unaccompanied again. However, if she did give Bellatrix the potion like she had told her she would, Ginny would be helping her side. However, she would be taking a huge risk because if Bellatrix succeeded in killing Voldemort – a feat that Ginny highly doubted – then her gamble would pay off, but if Bellatrix failed, then she and Draco were practically dead.

Ginny swallowed and bit her tongue as the latter scenario played out in her head. That was definitely not a risk she was willing to take . . . looks like she was going to have to break her word to Bellatrix. She would much rather have her parents be angry with her than Voldemort.

"Accio parchment," she muttered and watched as the sheet levitated out of her drawer and landed on her desk. Silently, she lifted herself off the windowsill and walked over to her desk, the yellow sheet a stark and foreboding contrast with the dark wood.

_You're doing the right thing,_ she told herself, _or actually not the right thing, the right thing would be giving Bellatrix the potion and risking my life in hopes of vanishing the Dark Lord, but . . . . _The worm of guilt gnawed at Ginny and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat,_ well if I do give Bellatrix the potion I would be endangering Draco's life and that isn't fair to him. Plus, Bellatrix is no match for Voldemort not to mention how unstable she is. What if Bellatrix decided she wanted to be allowed back into the Dark Lord's fold and used the evidence of my – and thus, Draco's and his father's - betrayal as leverage to get the Dark Lord to forgive her? _

So maybe Ginny's actions were justified at least a little . . . _._

With a sigh and a few reassuring nods, Ginny dipped her quill in ink and set it over the parchment._ What would be a diplomatic way of telling Bellatrix thank you, but no thank you, so no hard feelings?_

Ginny snorted at the thought, _no hard feelings, oh yes definitely. _

Just when she decided she would make it brief and to the point, there was a loud ruckus heard from downstairs. Ginny instantly set her quill down and moved towards the door. She could hear a man, Ron actually, shouting and pushing furniture around. She could also hear other voices trying to calm him. Forgetting the letter, Ginny flew out the door and down the stairs.

" – that doesn't mean she's cheating on you, Ron!" Harry was yelling, "how could you have so little faith in Hermione?"

"She probably just needs some time, she' s in a very stressful situation," Molly rationalized, "that stupid Alliance! I knew Dumbledore should've never allowed her to go."

"What happened?" Ginny uttered from the doorway into the sitting room. Draco instantly met her eyes, his look was somber and his eyes wide. Before ayone could see this exchange, Ginny went over to her brother who was sitting on the sofa having a cut on his lip and a dark bruise on his cheek tended to by Molly. Harry, Tonks and Remus were standing around him.

"Hermione left me," Ron spat .

Whatever Ginny was expecting, it was not this. "Really?" Now she knew why Draco had had that knowing look on his face. "Did she say why?"

"Not exactly," Ron muttered while squinting his eyes when his mother placed cold ice directly on his cheek, "mom it hurts!"

"It's the only way to get the swelling down, don't move!"

Ginny shifted on her feet. "So, she gave no reason at all?"

"She said some bullshit about not thinking about me as a husband, and not loving me."

Ginny was speechless. "Oh."

Apparently, Ginny's decision to not give Bellatrix the potion was not as treacherous as Hermione's latest decision.

"Why are you hit?"

"Got into a fight at the café where she told me," Ron muttered.

"Oh Ron! Now what will I do when I go to Diagon Alley? Everyone is going to be talking about this! First your father with Lucius Malfoy all those years ago and now you!" Molly shook her head. "Oh, what will they think of our family?"

"Calm down, mom, we were in a Muggle café so your honor is safe," Ron said sarcastically. Molly pursed her lips at his tone, but said nothing.

"I'll talk to her, Ron, she's probably just stressed out," Harry said putting a hand on Ron's arm who shook it off.

"Or she's too busy sucking new cock!"

Biting her finger, Ginny slyly turned to look at Draco. However, the blond was too busy looking out the window and pretending he was not there. His jaw did clench nervously though at Ron's outburst.

"Hermione's not like that, Ron!" Harry said raising his voice and coming around the sofa to face him. "We have been friends with her since we were eleven, and she would never do that! How could you have so little faith in her?"

_Oh wow,_ Ginny thought while looking up at the ceiling, her face burning as it reddened with guilt. _Sing a mental song, let's sing a song . . . 99 bottles of beer on the wall! Take one down, pass it around! 98 bottles of beer on the wall! Take –"_

"Hey Malfoy! Where are you going?"

Ron's outburst made Ginny's mental exercise break off. It appeared that the tension had been too much for Draco who had gotten up and tried to leave the room.

"Going up to my room, what does it look like, weasel?" Draco replied harshly.

Ron narrowed his eyes and then stood up rashly.

"Why? You know something, ferret?"

_Oh shit._

Draco blinked rapidly, his mask of aggression falling for brief seconds and showing one of fright. "N- no. Why?"

_Oh God damn it_,_ Draco, _Ginny thought, _way to be obvious._

"I think you do know something, Malfoy," Ron spat while stopping in front of him near the door. "So who is it? Who's she been with?"

"I know nothing about that, I'm not even at the Dark Lord's that often," Draco said.

"But you know something otherwise you wouldn't look so nervous and twitchy," Ron went on, "or maybe that's just your ferret genes kicking in."

"I'm not nervous!" Draco said while taking a step back.

_Oh yes, your very high voice is certainly evidence of that_, Ginny thought with a silent groan.

"Is it Zabini?" Ron went on, "or your buddies Crabbe and Goyle? Or," his face reddened, "you?" he grabbed Draco by the collar. "Is that why you're covering for her and pissing your pants?"

"Ron!" Ginny snapped along with Harry and the other people in the room. They all went up to the boys and separated them.

"You're nuts, Weasley!" Draco said breathlessly, his normally sleek hair, disheveled. "No wonder Hermione wanted out!"

_FUCK. _Ginny hoped she was the only one that caught that.

_ "_Hermione?" Harry asked slowly, his expression turning interested, "Not Mudblood? Since when do you call her that?"

With the cat half out of the bag, Ginny's conversation with the Dark Lord concerning his relationship with Hermione came to mind.

**_"Since you are the only that knows, if it were to ever come out without my intending it, I would automatically assume that it was your doing. In that case, your boyfriend as well as yourself would suffer greatly, is that understood?"_**

_Time to pull out all the stops._

Dramatically, Ginny brought her hand up to her head and bent forward.

"Oh wow, I need to sit," she said in a broken voice. Immediately, the crowd around Draco turned to look at her. Ginny clenched her eyes shut and parted her lips, her brow knitted. "Oh, I feel awful!"

"Oh my baby," her mother let out while rushing over to her, "what's wrong? Oh you're so red!" Molly placed the back of her hand on Ginny's forehead. "And you're sweating!"

"Ginny what are you feeling?" Harry asked urgently.

"Dizzy . . . I am so so dizzy," Ginny moaned. She let her head roll back onto the headrest.

"Did you eat anything bad?" Ron asked worriedly.

"Check her temperature," Tonks said quickly.

With the attention shifted off Malfoy, Ginny opened her eyes slightly to make sure he had taken the cue and left. However, to her horror, he was still there and looking quite worried and like he wanted to come towards her. Apparently her "illness" was quite believable.

_Oh, you idiot_

"Oh wow, I'm seeing stars!" Ginny let out while stretching her arms out and moving them in a 'go away' gesture to Draco. But of course he didn't understand. "So many of them that it's making me really uncomfortable and letting me know that I need to leave NOW!" she gave one final swipe with her arm towards the door.

To her relief, his eye widened with a nod, and he quietly slinked out and up the staircase.

_Mission accomplished._

"Oh my baby!" Molly sobbed, "my poor baby, why are you hallucinating? Did you eat bad food? Did you fall?"

Ginny resumed her moaning and eye rolling but with a feeling of relief.

_The secret was safe… for now._

_

* * *

_

_The secret would never be safe, especially not now. _

Hermione buried her face into his armpit as this thought came into her head. Her depressed thought was further not helped by Voldemort responding to her newfound closeness by bringing his arm around her and placing a kiss on her head.

Whatever guilt she had faced when cheating on Ron with the Dark Lord was multiplied tenfold when thoughts of her promise to Dumbledore regarding Voldemort came up. _I can't do it, there was no way I can do it . . . and yet, I have to._

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and shifted closer to him so that she could put her arm around his chest. She expected Voldemort to open his eyes at the sound of the sheets rustling since that would mean that she was moving and Voldemort was always mistrustful. However, to add another layer to her already too tall tower of guilt, he didn't open his eyes, he didn't even move when she did.

_I cannot do this, there is no way I can do this and live with myself._

_

* * *

_

_ "_Are you sure you're going to be okay, sweetie?"

Ginny nodded as her mom finished putting the sheets up around her.

"Yeah, I'm feeling much better. Don't worry, mom."

"Fine, but you let me know the minute you feel bad so we can go to St. Mungo's. Don't worry about waking your father and I up."

"I won't, don't worry, mom," Ginny said with a warm smile.

"Okay, then. Good night."

Softly, Molly gave her a kiss on the forehead before standing up and turning off the lamp by her nightstand with one last smile and walking out of the darkened room.

Ginny waited in bed until she heard her mother reach the downstairs foyer. Then, she slipped out of bed and towards her desk where the yellow piece of parchment lay.

Feeling bold, Ginny took the quill and scribbled her note. Then, she folded up the letter and went into the room next door, her brother's room where she knew his owl was.

Before Pigwidgeon could make a lot of noise, Ginny handed him bits of a cookie she had in her room. The owl flapped his little wings excitedly, but made no further noise as he gulped down the bits of cookie. Before he could finish his treat and start making noise, however, Ginny tied the letter to him and opened the window.

"Go quick! To Bellatrix Lestrange."

An excited Pigwidgeon chirped briefly before zooming out through the clouds and towards the glowing moon.

* * *

"Why so affectionate today, Hermione?"

The rumbling of his voice on his chest made Hermione raise her head off it and glance at him.

"What do you mean? I'm always like this after . . . ."

Hermione rouged and pressed her lips together as she motioned with her eyes at their nude bodies covered haphazardly by the twisted bedsheets.

"Well it was just a few hours ago you were quite angered with me and now you're acting as if nothing happened," he went on, eyes gazing at her lazily.

"Would you prefer I hold a grudge?" Hemrione responded hardening her tone.

"No, of course not," he responded quickly, "I just think it's interesting that's all."

"Are you trying to piss me off again?" Hermione snapped.

"No, you know what, forget about it and come here." He stretched out his arm for her to lay back down on.

Getting her nerves back under control at the thought of her secret being safe, Hermione slowly lay back down beside him and pulled the sheets up to her chin before turning away from him.

"Oh come on, Hermione," he muttered, his hand creeping down her buttocks and between her hot and wet loins.

She didn't protest when his fingers started stimulating her clit. However, she also would not let him know she was enjoying it, and so she closed her eyes and bit her lip to hold back the moans. It didn't take long for her to start itching for release and Hermione heatedly turned around and caught his face bringing him down over her in a strong kiss. She took the time to suck on each one of his lips and moaned when their teeth clinked and his circular ministrations between her now widespread legs increased in speed.

"Oh Tom, " Hermione moaned, "fuck me now, just fuck me."

Immediately, he moved over her and pushed into her receptive orifice.

They both moaned loudly and Hermione wiped the sweat on her forehead as he started thrusting.

It was over a few minutes later for Hermione who cried out loudly and clenched herself tightly causing him to speed up his pace and come seconds after. Both rode out their orgasms with pants and low moans of satisfaction until the sensual waves crashing onto their bodies died out slowly.

Hermione let out one final moan and closed her eyes when he lay down on top of her and buried his face in the pillow next to her neck. Hermione brought her hands up to him and clutched his biceps while turning to kiss the side of his face.

_If only we could stay like this forever . . . be like a normal couple_.

* * *

Bellatrix was so angered by the note in her hand, she tore it up into pieces and cursed the annoying ball of feathers that brought it. Unfortunately, the small owl was not only extremely noisy, but very fast too, and he ducked her curse before flying away.

**_I WON'T DO IT._**

Those impertinent four little words burned bright in her mind, one after the other like a continuous stream of words on a jumbotron.

Well, there was always that chance and while Bellatrix had hoped that the Weasley girl would be sufficiently intimidated to her dirty work for her, she had to move on to plan B now. It was not her favorite plan for many reasons, mainly because she would be relying on someone or rather something that she had never thought she would have to curry favors from.

Closing her eyes and calming down her mind. She whispered.

"Kreacher . . . your mistress needs a favor."

Once her summon was made, Bellatrix sat down on the hotel bed and waited while looking around at her surroundings with disdain, it was a Muggle hotel she had been reduced to living in.

Her angry face turned into a happy one however, when said elf appeared in front of her. He was as old and hunched over as she remembered him, and also respectful as he kept his gaze down all the way until he was standing right before her.

"Kreacher," she said sweetly, "how have you been?"

"Mistress is too kind for asking, but Kreacher hates living with all that scum that has taken over my mistress' house. Kreacher doesn't help them though," the elf added in a harsh tone "he tries to stay away."

"Well, Kreacher, how would you like to do me a favor?"

Bellatrix leaned her arms forward onto her thighs.

"Do you know where those blood traitors keep the Imperius Potion that was given to Dumbledore?"

"Kreacher saw him take it with him, it wasn't left in the house."

Bellatrix's happy face twisted into a look of disgust.

"But Kreacher can get it for mistress, she needs not worry."

"Really, Kreacher, would you be so kind?" Bellatrix said softly.

"Kreacher will have it by the end of the week, Mistress Bellatrix, Kreacher promises."

Bellatrix smiled at him.

"Thank you, Kreacher, you will make Regulus proud."

At this Kreacher instantly swelled with pride and his eye glittered.

"Should Kreacher come here with potion?"

"Yes, Kreacher, as soon as possible."

With that, the elf apparated away with a pop and Bellatrix cackled as she fell back on the mattress, arms spread.

Oh life was good . . . .


	16. Chapter 16

_**XOXOs to: Serpent in red, LadyLecter47, Doctorfang, Is DonJuan, Alannalove1990, Inkfire, Kirtash, Gsalilsecret, sweet-tang-honey, Dramione-fan17, Lk-Hogwarts-Headgirl, Nerys, Patricia de Lioncourt, David Boreanaz's wife 247, Aramfan101, purpleemily.**_

**Thank you for waiting so patiently and your wonderful reviews!**

**Note: Hufflepuff's cup, which in the books was kept in Bellatrix's vault, is actually in Voldemort's possession for this fic (at this point). After he realized Harry was hunting after them, he collected all the remaining ones (cup, diadem) and put them under his care.**

* * *

_Oh how things had changed_, Hermione mused as she shrunk further into her seat and eyed the window behind the headmaster's blue robed self. Just last week she would've been soothed at the idea of going to see Dumbledore - the warm, lemon sherbet slurping, twinkle in the eye - leader of the light.

Amazing how much things could change in two days.

"Why are you so tense, Hermione?"

Hermione snapped her eyes on him. "I'm tense because I'm not thrilled about this plan, I'm . . . I'm still coming to terms with it."

"You have to remember who he is, Hermione, remember all the suffering he's caused and remember that sometimes in order to secure the common good, we have to sacrifice ourselves."

Hermione bit her lip and threw him a sideways glance. There he went again rubbing the whole 'Grindelwald was the love of _my _life, but I still had him imprisoned'.

_Well, I'm not you, Dumbledore_. Hermione felt like saying.

"Have you told him about the breakup of your engagement?"

"No," Hermione whispered, "yesterday he was giving me the cold shoulder because I went off with you. I will tell him today though."

Hermione's Occlumentic walls sprung after this statement, and she made them go up as high as she could. She had lied to Dumbledore after all, but it was the only way to buy herself time and keep up the façade that she was going on with his plan to kill the Dark Lord.

At this thought, she gave her Occlumentic walls one extra surge of power just in case and was thankful to Voldemort's training because she was sure that that was the only reason they were holding up. Her neck hurt terribly from the pressure she was under though.

"He will assume you are joining him," Dumbledore said, a frisson of excitement in his voice, "he would not suspect you after this."

Hermione nodded silently and forced a smile on her face. She felt relieved because she realized that Dumbledore was so excited at this new prospect, that he would not be looking for evidence to disprove it. In other words, she could let down her guard, just a little bit.

""I'll owl you right after I do, but for now you're going to have to excuse me, professor, because he has a meeting scheduled, and I want to make sure I'm on time." Hermione pushed her chair back and stood up to corroborate her statement.

"Yes, yes, he'll like that," Dumbledore said with hurried nods while getting up from his desk and coming towards her. Hermione watched him as he took her hands in his and fixed her with his piercing blue eyes. "Good luck, Hermione, and thank you, not just from me, but on behalf of every single being in this world, both magical and not. You are doing an extraordinary thing, and I bow down to your moral strength and resolve."

Hermione's throat had gone dry, and she swallowed right before she was to make her reply; however, not trusting her voice, Hermione instead twisted her lips into a smile and nodded while placing her hand on top of his. She met his eyes briefly, but quickly averted them for her conscience would not let her be so bold. Thankfully, Hermione's eyes teared up just as she averted his gaze (from guilt), but Dumbledore took her avoidance of his gaze as a modest covering up of her emotional pain and squeezed her hands tighter.

"I know it's hard, Hermione, and it may seem right now like he's the only one you'll ever love, but that's not the case. There will be others."

"Were there any others for you?"

Dumbledore's demeanor instantly hardened as he drew back, hands clasped tightly over each other.

"A few," he said off-handedly.

The brunette didn't even need Legilimency to know he was lying: his guarded posture and tight jaw gave her the answer his lips would not admit to

"Take care, headmaster," Hermione said quietly before taking a couple of steps towards the fireplace. Just then, the headmaster's voice made her turn to face him.

"Forgive me, Hermione, but I'm afraid the Floo is down, it's better if you Apparate outside. That's why I gave you permission to Apparate in, remember?"

"Oh, you're right, I'm sorry," Hermione gave him a nervous smile. She walked up to the door and as she turned the knob, gave him a goodbye nod.

Almost as soon as she was out of the headmaster's office, her mind let out one long sigh of relief as her Occlumentic walls dropped completely. Instantly, the tight ache bunched between her shoulders soothed itself, but just as Hermione stepped out of the Gargoyle entrance and towards the corridor, she was stopped by a familiar voice.

"Hermione,"

The-Boy-Who-Lived was sitting in one of the stone carved benches, he had seemingly been waiting to meet with Dumbledore. But why hadn't he just had Dumbledore come to see him at Grimmauld Place like usual? After all, Harry wasn't supposed to be seen in public because of the arrest warrant . . . .

"Hey," Hermione said trying to not sound too surprised or nervous since she was sure that Harry would ask about her breakup with Ron.

"I didn't expect to run into you," he said while motioning for her to sit down next to him, "glad I did though, haven't seen you in a while."

"I know," Hermione mumbled with a shy smile, "things are . . .speeding up."

Harry gave a minute nod, his green eyes trying to build a bridge with Hermione's reclusive brown orbs.

"Is that why you broke up with Ron? Things are too much for you right now?"

Hermione turned away from him, her thumbs fiddling in their tight grasp. "Kind of . . . actually yes, and when things were at their worst, I realized that I didn't feel the need to run to Ron for support. On the contrary, I felt I had to hide the bad situation from him and bear with it myself because I knew that he would react by telling me to get out of the mission which at this point is not an option. I mean, you know how he is," Hermione turned to Harry.

"He . . . he's not one to face problems head on, he . . . hides from them."

Harry smiled wryly. "You've always known this about Ron though, Hermione, he's not exactly used to hard living. Remember how he left us when we were searching for Horcruxes? And yet, you still dated him and got engaged to him, moved in with him . . . ."

"Well, I was so in love with Ron back then that I overlooked everything, but the years pass and with it goes the blindfold. For a few years now I've actually been having doubts about Ron and I, but I tried to ignore them because so much of my life revolved around him and his family. I mean, we've been friends since we were 11! I'm basically part of his family, and they've all been so nice and loving towards me all these years that how could I fathom breaking up with Ron? I felt like I'd be betraying all of them in doing so . . ."

Hermione trailed off and bit her lip for a few seconds before continuing. "So I tried to ignore that little nagging voice in the back of my mind, that elusive reality . . . and instead put all my hope and will into believing this convincing façade I constructed for myself."

"So what made you realize that you and Ron weren't meant to be?"

_God damn you, Harry._

"Well, " Hermione started, drawing out the word so as to give herself time to think, "just the way he's been acting as a result of this mission. He should've supported me, but he never did." Hermione bit her lip and played with the gloves in her hands, the gloves Molly had knit for her this past Christmas. "I guess it showed me that our relationship is not stable enough to take it to the next level," she finished in a very small, sheepish voice.

Harry remained silent as did Hermione and he finally placed his hand on top of hers and gave them a squeeze causing her to look up at him.

"I just want you to know that no matter what, you'll always be my friend, and I know that things are going to be different when you, me and Ron are together now, but maybe someday you two will make up, and then we can go back to the way we were."

"I was kind of hoping that Ron would want to stay friends . . . ."

_At least until the whole truth comes out._

"I know, but he's pretty hurt . . . I'll talk to him though, and hopefully with time . . . you know."

He smiled slightly.

Hermione gave him a sad smile and looked back down at her hands, Ron would never be that mature. But then again she was going to lose both friendships if she decided to go with her current love interest so why even bother to hope?

"How's Voldemort treating you?"

"Fine for the most part," Hermione said offhandedly, "he has his days sometimes though. He can't hurt me, of course," Hermione lied quickly so as to not cause Harry to panic, "but his attitude is pretty much unbearable during those times."

"Yeah, I always kind of imagined him as being somewhat of a Prima Donna," Harry said quietly before a nervous smile made its way onto his face.

"Yes, that pretty much sums him up," Hermione replied with another smile.

Their nervous laughter resonated in the stone chamber.

"Well, I should be going," Hermione said getting up slowly, "there's a Death Eater meeting soon, and I don't want to be late for it or else he will give me more grief than you can imagine."

Harry nodded. "Okay, well… are you planning on coming to the Burrow anytime soon?"

"Yeah . . . I just think I'm going to give Ron some time to cool off, owl me though, we'll keep in touch that way."

Hermione bent down to hug him, an embrace that Harry returned eagerly.

"I'll owl you tonight to see how everything went, okay?"

Hermione smiled. "Thanks, Harry."

She squeezed his hand and turned away before Disapparating.

Of all the images, Hermione could've fathomed to be met with upon her arrival at the Dark Lord's office, a beaming Tom practically bouncing off the heels of his highly polished shoes was not one of them.

Quickly, Hermione went over the list of things that could make him this joyous.

Harry was safe; she had just talked to him, so that couldn't be it . . .

Had he achieved immortality maybe?

"You don't want to know what I've done?"

She shifted uncomfortably at the glint in his eyes: they were practically popping out of their eye sockets from excitement. His lips too were pursed and moving from side to side to keep a grin from breaking out over his poor attempt at a poker face.

"No, I don't," Hermione said, "I absolutely don't".

She stepped out of the Floo and around him, whatever it was it could not be good for the Order or the innocent people of the world.

"Did Dumbledore show you The Prophet?"

A raid, maybe? But why would he be so happy about a raid though? They were very common in his organization . . . maybe he captured an important prisoner?

"Who did you capture?"

The grin that had been threatening to break over his face finally came through the surface.

"Oh, it's not who but what."

_An artifact._

"No . . . oh no," he continued in that sugar coated voice coming from his unsettlingly ecstatic face, "something much, much better . . . something I should've gotten from day one."

Hermione watched as he stretched out his hand behind him so that a newspaper came flying off his desk and into his hand which he threw at a seated Hermione before coming to join her on the sofa.

Hermione swallowed as she slowly and tentatively unrolled the newspaper; Voldemort was looking over her shoulder, breath held, waiting for her reaction.

Oh she had such a bad feeling about this.

To her surprise there were no announcements of deaths or kidnappings, no gory photos or pleas for help. Instead there was a rather interesting headline that made Hermione turn to look back at him with a frown.

**HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED SENDS AN OPEN LETTER TO THE EDITOR**

"Because they said that Zombies and Inferis were the same thing?"

"Better for me if they keep their erroneous information, no," he snapped.

Hermione turned to look back at the article before looking back at him once more.

"Is it because of that typo –?"

"What do I have to do to get you to read?"

His brief tone and set lips let her know the game was up.

"Okay," she whispered and turned her attention back to the page.

"Page three . . ."

She flipped through the newspaper slowly, taking a deep breath to calm herself. She heard him snigger and move her hair off her neck followed by some light nibbling and kissing.

"I thought you loved me."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Hermione said pulling him out from the crook of her neck and fixing him with a questioning look.

"Aren't you supposed to be happy that I'm happy?"

"Well, yes but that is a standard for normal people and the things that make you this happy are not a part of this standard."

He rolled his eyes. "Just read."

Hermione sighed with an air of finality. _Let's get this over with._

"**AN OPEN LETTER**

**TO THE HEAD EDITOR**

**OF THE DAILY PROPHET**

**Mr. Higginbaum,**

**I am responding to your column post titled: "The Future is joined for Muggles and Wizards" published on March 7th. As you and all your readers might've already guessed, I am most staunchly against such an action. However, I am not going to take time from everyone's busy morning to repeat the reasoning that is most attributed to me - of blood purity, Muggle inferiority and ethnic holocausts. That is not the reason behind my actions, dear editor, those are simply the conclusions and now, I will give you all the facts, and I assure you that with time, you will get to see a, so-called, 'madman's' point.**

"I highly doubt that will happen," Hermione said looking over her shoulder at the Dark Lord.

"One more interruption and will set your eyes permanently on the newspaper."

**Let me start by saying that your underlying message is very noble and well-intentioned – a world where Muggles and Wizards can peacefully co-habit while helping each other with their specific resources and technologies. However, fairy tales like the above, are never compatible with reality which in this case is that Wizards and Muggles will never peacefully coexist because one will always seek to control the other.**

**So to refute your first point in favor of this Wizard-Muggle Alliance, the latter would never be able to cooperate during "wars" (being vague is not dodging a bullet, Orel, I know you meant the war with me) because of this inherent distrust and need for subordination of the opposite part. Wizards and Muggles have always had quite brutal run-ins whenever each group came too close to the other (Medieval Witch Trials and the Inquisition's persecution of Alchemists par example). Also, might I add, that in every single case it was the Muggles who carried out these antagonistic actions against us. We, as a minority, were always unable to retaliate and thus settled for separating ourselves from them for the next few centuries.**

**But as things of long ago often do, the history books' warning was lost little by little with each new generation and while no significant moves were undertaken to integrate ourselves with Muggles, the thoughts were there. Which is why when the 1960s peeked its pot-addled, dreadlocked head from their Muggle street onto ours and dragged in the idea of unconditional love and acceptance for all, it became the catalyst for these ideas.**

**While this movement was minor and mostly focused in the youth of the time, I saw it for the threat that it was and so did a few alert members of our society who chose to join me in preventing these 'Hippies' from ignorantly putting our world in harm's way by extending a hand to the Muggles. However, now I realize that their naivety and ignorance was not completely to blame on themselves as it is a very prevalent condition amongst us wizards.**

**We think of the Muggles as helpless and whimsical creatures who we study under a microscope in Muggle Studies. Helpless victims to Death Eater violence who need protection from our 'oh so powerful magical selves'. So the Ministry and its agencies seek to promote this feeling of camaraderie with the Muggles. After all, you are both being victimized by the same evil wizard, right Orel? That brings me to your first point in favor of strengthening Muggle-Wizard relations: cooperation by both parts to bring me down.**

**It would probably work too, my followers and I would be immensely outnumbered with a unified Wizarding and Muggle Ministry, you could probably take me down in a manner of months with sufficient effort and good strategizing. So there I am dead and both worlds rejoice. But what now? Is that the end of the story? The bad guy dies and the good guys live happily ever after? If so, then it is a disgustingly trite not to mention implausible ending.**

**With me out of the way, the exchange of ideas and broadening of horizons that you cite as a second reason for more Wizard-Muggle interaction would occur: Muggles would get an intimate glimpse into the Wizarding world and viceversa. However, wizards being the over doting and patronizing father to the helpless and innocent child that they assume the Muggle world to be, would never imagine the Muggles taking any of our technology and using it to our detriment.**

**Of course the Muggles would agree to help take me down, after all why would they want to deal with an unfriendly front when they can wait a little while and then exploit this new world without anyone to stop them?**

**Muggles would readily participate in an exchange of ideas and technologies with wizards, they would then take this new knowledge and used it to improve their own technologies or create new ones. As for our world, it would gain a better understanding of the Muggles, but it would gain practically nothing in the form of new technologies since our magic enables us to do most of the things that Muggles have developed technology for. Lighting, for example, a basic spell for us 'Lumos' and we have light. The Muggles, on the other hand, had to develop technology for over 100 years to reach this same result.**

**So now you might be thinking that this example proves the old adage of the helpless Muggle who has to work ten times as hard as wizards to achieve the same result. It is true that Muggles work harder than wizards to achieve the same results, however, the implications of this are greater than wizards think. If wizards feel that the reach of this knowledge is only to confirm the stereotype of the helpless Muggle, they will grow complacent and will not see the Muggle as a threat.**

**Taking advantage of this, the Muggles would gain our knowledge and apply their diligent work ethic to mimic our magical phenomena on their technologies. Probably starting with the functioning of wands, which with the correct scientific effort could be mimicked quite successfully.**

**Before you know it, the Muggles have taken their fill of our knowledge and improved their world and most importantly, their weapons. They would unite, and due to their vastly superior numbers and newly gained technologies, eliminate the existing threat of the Wizarding world once and for all.**

**That is of course, one scenario for destruction of our world. But you don't need to look at my futuristic scenario to see that this is already becoming true on a smaller level. Every day, more and more Muggle technology is introduced into our world due to its cost-effectiveness and practicality, and while the concessions have been small so far, they will add up and our world will be irreversibly tainted by that which is Muggle. I'm not the only one who foresees this though, the Magic for Tomorrow Foundation has recently sponsored a bill to limit the number of Wizard technologies employed in the workplace. Mainly for fear of said technologies taking jobs away from our people.**

**It is because of all of this that I vehemently disagree with you, Mr. Higginbaum, Muggles are to be hated because they are to be feared. If Muggle-Wizard ties continue to strengthen, our world will end up self-destructing due to the influx of Muggle influence. We would not be autonomous anymore: we would become a subsidy of theirs, a market. My followers and I see this threat which is why we do the things that we do and preach the things that we preach. I am glad that the Wizarding people are finally coming to their senses about the Muggle threat, but it worries me that the Ministry is playing for lucrative Muggle interests rather than those of the people who voted them in.**

**Sincerely,**

**The Dark Lord**

Hermione's eyes lingered on the last three words which she viewed through hazy windows due to her eyes thoughtful narrowing.

So many questions and only one mouth. A shame.

"Are you really that slow a reader?"

"Why would you this?"

Hermione's puzzled tone was accompanied by her turning in her seat to look at him attentively. "What are you planning?"

"The plan is always the same, Hermione," he said lightly, the words waltzed out of his smiling lips. "It's the means that change."

Hermione watched him smirk knowingly and lean back expectantly. He wanted her to figure it out and by the looks of him, he had just given her a clue.

One she had picked up on too, luckily, 'the means change but the plan remains . . . sounded like it was in the same vein as 'the ends justify the means.'

_Think like a Machiavellian, Hermione, think like a Machiavellian._

_What would Machiavelli do?_

His words echoed in her mind, _"Oh, it's not who I've captured but rather what."_

The people's attention.

"You're trying to turn the people against Muggles, but in order for this to happen they have to trust you, but that will not happen because the Wizarding community is not about to forgive you for your three decade reign of terror, and yet - " Hermione stopped and watched his turbulent eyes, "you know all this already," she whispered, "so why . . . ?"

"I don't expect them to forgive and forget, they might be stupid, but they're not **that** stupid," he cut in, the hand of the finger he had been pensively running over his lip falling in the space between them, "no, instead, I want to be the lesser of two evils."

"What other evil?"

"The ministry, of course, who is trying to bring the Wizarding and Muggle worlds together."

Hermione frowned. "But they're not trying to bring them together, that was just one man's opinion. "

"And that one man happens to be the head editor of one of the leading publications in the Wizarding world and is also in the cabinet of our minister," the sarcasm in his voice made Hermione's body hair bristle," so no, I don't think his opinion is representative of this administration's."

"Well, that may be so, but Scrimgeour's term is over in three years, and then a brand new administration will come in with different goals."

"Not really, our governments have become more and more liberal over the past few years not to mention greedy, and with how cost-saving the Muggle technologies adopted by Scrimgeour have been, the new governments to come will no doubt want to increase the use of those technologies. So far, the people haven't been bothered too much by it because the changes have been small, but when they start losing their jobs because a machine can do what they do ten times as fast and for a third of the price . . . that's when the seed I've planted will start to blossom."

Hermione remained silent as she processed his new plan: it sounded like the plan every 20th century dictator had used to get power: establish a scapegoat, and blame everything on it to turn the people to your side. It was a very good plan, and had a high chance of success, but what would that success mean to the wizarding people?"

"Where'd your ring go?"

Hermione was brought back abruptly from her train of thought as her left hand was guided onto Voldemort's lap while he inspected her now bare left hand.

"I broke it off," Hermione said quietly, "two days ago, after I spent the night at my parents."

"And when were you going to tell me?"

"Well that night when I came back, there wasn't really an appropriate time," Hermione mumbled as she remembered how the guilt had haunted her regarding Dumbledore's assignment. Thankfully, said assignment was no longer haunting her as she would not do it, and maybe her morality was truly being compromised, but she didn't feel nearly as guilty thinking about letting Tom live as she did about killing him to save the wizarding world. "Then yesterday you were out almost all day, and today you greeted me with your brand new plan; so I haven't really had the opportunity . . . ."

She trailed off when his thumb caressed her ring finger with an undercurrent of possessiveness.

"You didn't tell them it was because of me though," he stated, his voice so matter-of-fact that Hermione knew it was a front for disappointment.

"No, I said it was because Ron and I aren't compatible as a couple."

"How did he react?" he quietly asked while continuing to focus his attentions on her hand.

"He was angry," Hermione said briefly, her eyes on the carpet, "pretty much what you would expect."

"He must've told Harry and the others . . . what about Dumbledore?"

"They're all saddened, but they respect the fact that this is between Ron and I," Hermione said with a tone of finality.

Tom didn't acknowledge her for he was too busy fondling her hand.

"It looks so strange," he finally said while raising her hand towards him so that she could see the back of it. "Like it's desperately in need of a ring, a much worthier one of course," he trailed off and looked up at her.

Hermione swallowed. _Boy, this man wasted no time._

There was a bubble of happiness growing by the second inside her chest; however, her mind was in a frenzy coming up with all the ways why this was a bad idea, a terrible, irresponsible, exciting . . . no.

Hermione opened her mouth to say the rational thing, but before she could make a sound, he dropped her hand as he stood up.

"Wait."

Hermione let out her bated breath and watched as he disappeared into his room. Turning back, Hermione's hand recoiled in her lap, desperately seeking the warmth it had lost when the Dark Lord left. Hermione shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself in a hug, she knew she had to say 'no' to him, do the responsible, rational and above all, right thing. But how could she live without him? Hermione though while clutching her left hand, it looked alone and cold, miserable even . . . much like what her existence would be like without him.

Hermione heard him closing the door to his room and walking back towards their sofa; however, she didn't look up for she was trapped inside her mind, imprisoned by her many and opposing thoughts, shackled by the logic her Hogwarts professors had praised, burdened by her unyielding moral compass her friends admired her for.

To get away from the guilt, Hermione fled into a special room in her head, the one she barricaded herself in every time life became too much to bare, a room lined with bookcases brimming with books from floor to ceiling. Through her prison's two windows, Hermione saw him sitting down and reaching out for her left hand once more.

However, this time he reached for her hand with his left instead of his right because the latter was wrapped around a small velvet box. It was black with a gold trim marking the site of opening. Hermione's breath caught, and she watched in horror and surprise how the room around her started to shrink and the rows of books that had protected her all these years, begun closing in on her.

From inside her book-filled prison, Hermione heard herself whisper breathless.

"Tom."

A pop of velvet and a flash of multicolored light answered her.

"Marry me."

She couldn't, it was unthinkable and rash. What would Harry say and Dumbledore? Instead of killing their enemy she was marrying him? And the Weasleys and all the people she had grown up with and thought of as family? It was unfair and selfish of her.

Hermione watched in horrified agony as the two bookcases trapped her; the books on both shelves shaking wildly as they threatened to fall on her. For the first time in her life, Hermione cursed her mind. Her so called greatest asset with its logic, intelligence, interminable facts and orderliness. Stronger shackles could never be found, and Hermione was tired of dragging them around. She wanted to be free, light and airy like a feather in the wind. He could help her, there wasn't a freer spirit elsewhere, and yet he possessed a much more complex mind than hers, but unlike her, he was the master of it, not its slave.

She wanted him to teach her that . . . needed it.

Hermione gasped and bit her lip, her eyes on the glistening diamond ring. One word and it would all be over . . . the books were shaking terribly over her head, the spines rattling against each other in a threatening cacophony, but her role as a slave to her mind was over.

"Okay . . . yes," she said with a nervous smile and a shaky laugh.

He squeezed her hand in return, a small smile on his full lips as he slipped the platinum ring on her finger.

Hermione drew her hand back towards herself as she studied her new ring. A nervous smile and a few tears of relief rolled down her cheeks. It was right, it all felt so right. . . .

At that moment, the shaking bookcases in her mind's eye turned to glass and shattered, strewing the floor of the now empty room in her head with their shards. At that moment, she was free, and Hermione reacted with joy towards her savior and future husband: she wrapped her arms around his neck and met her lips with his as he allowed them to fall back on the sofa.

* * *

Bellatrix was pacing restlessly on front of her hotel room bed, it was almost two and the elf was still not there. Sure, he had said he would show up at two, but he should know to show up early so as to not make her wait like this.

_The great Bellatrix Black reduced to living in Muggle hostels and waiting on house elves_, she thought angrily as she kicked the ratty, old rug at the foot of the bed. She couldn't wait to get her revenge. Bellatrix sat back down on the bed and breathed deeply while closing her eyes and squeezing her fisted hands with unrelieved anger. She had to summon all her willpower to not curse the damn Kreacher when he showed his old, ugly face. She still needed him for the most important part of her mission. She didn't open her eyes when she heard the crack of his apparition, she wasn't about to let an elf interrupt her activities, no matter how meaningless.

"Mistress, Kreacher has the potion."

The smile was on Bellatrix's face before she opened her eyes. With a snap of her fingers, the potion was out of the elf's hand and into hers.

She ran one long nailed finger over the glass surface, it was so beautiful, so perfect, her revenge was literally at hand.

"Thank you, Kreacher," she breathed while placing a loud and long kiss on the bottle's surface. "But I have one final request."

"Anything my mistress requires," Kreacher said hurriedly, his eyes glowing at having been thanked by such a worthy master.

"I need you to slip this in the Dark Lord's elf's drink, Epi, at the dark manor. Then you must order it to get Hufflepuff's cup from the Dark Lord's hiding place and give it to you. You must then bring it to me."

Kreacher bowed low and in a croaky voice replied, "whatever my worthy mistress requires of old Kreacher, Kreacher will be honored to do."

* * *

Rain, lightning and thunder. The weather seemed to match Hermione's emotions: grief, excitement and anger.

She shrunk further back into the cushy divan and turned her head to look out the large windows in the Dark Lord's office. It was really coming down out there.

She was alone in the large room, the crackling fire in the hearth her sole source of warmth and companionship. Voldemort had left after lunch because he had a meeting, and when Hermione had gotten up to accompany him, he had reminded her that as his fiancée, she was no longer the other side's emissary, and thus, didn't need to shadow him anymore. Hermione had felt strange when he'd said this, but she had been so consumed with post-engagement bliss, that she hadn't said anything about it. Now however, almost an hour after he left, the consequences of her decision were coming down on her.

He didn't think of her as being with the Order anymore, Hermione, on the other hand, had not made the same assumption. Logically, it made sense that by becoming engaged to the Dark Lord, she could no longer guard the interests of the light side; however, the emotions always choked, whenever logic swallowed.

Biting her inner lip, Hermione picked at a hangnail on her ring, she had purposely pulled it from her ring finger so she could have an excuse to glance at it, it really was a beautiful ring. Shining and big, quite clean too. It was obviously a lot more expensive than Ron's smaller offering, but it also came with a heavier burden.

Hermione sighed at this last thought and turned to look at the flames, the side of her head resting on the tops of her thighs around which her arms positioned themselves.

She was happy about marrying Voldemort, she loved him after all. But by doing so she was betraying everyone on her side in the worst way possible: Harry… Ron.

Actually not Ron. Hermione said as a flare of anger was lit by the mention of her ex, he had been ready to beat her when she broke it off with him.  
Dumbledore, too . . . before this morning's meeting she wouldn't have cared about how he felt. But this morning, the transparent and prideful look in his eyes when she told him she was going ahead with the plan . . . it had reminded her of his old, kind, wise self. Not the manipulative, selfish, two-faced wizard he had been acting like lately.

And Harry . . . poor Harry, it would break his heart.

Breaking it off with Tom would be the responsible thing, but she was sure he would not let her, and while it would be easy for Hermione to convince herself she was staying with the Dark Lord because she was afraid of his reaction if she didn't, she knew that she couldn't bear to be away from him anymore. No, breaking it off with him and going back to the Order was not an option, she loved him too much and if she had to be away from Tom, she'd be frustrated and unhappy for the rest of her life.

_But at the least all the people in the world would be safe and happy . . . one person's misery is a small price to pay for that._

Hermione buried her head in her thighs and let out a muffled and frustrated scream.

When would her conscience give her a break? It's not like she could go back now, she was already engaged to Voldemort, and he would never let her go. Simple as that.

_But you don't want him to let you go …_

_No, I don't_ Hermione thought with a hint of a smile._ I love him . . . I love that sociopathic son of a bitch._

* * *

His head turned away, the Dark Lord look out the window of one of the small sitting rooms in the first floor. There was complete silence in the closed-door space as the man seated in front of Voldemort stared attentively at the Daily Prophet.

The Dark Lord tilted his head just an inch towards the man so that he could look at him out of the corner of his eye. It had been almost ten minutes since he started reading his article. Why did people take so long to read?

"I need you to read the article, Cotnoir, not memorize it." The Dark Lord's icy voice cut through the silence like a clasp of thunder.

The man looked up, "Yes, my lord, I'm sorry for the wait I was just trying to find points to emphasize to the Minister." He handed out the paper towards the Dark Lord who waved it off.

"You don't need to emphasize anything other than what I tell you," the Dark lord said briefly. "Give the Muggle Minister the paper, let him read it . . . and get his distrusting little mind working, and then you emphasize the following."

The Dark Lord took a deep breath before beginning his explanation.

"I need you to _convince _the Muggle Prime Minister that the Wizarding people are starting to side with my views as a result of the new Muggle-friendly policies Scrimgeour initiated. Tell him they feel threatened by them and tell him about the new bill that is being brought before Scrimgeour to limit the number of Muggle technologies. Tell him about how scared and angry the people are becoming as they fear the eventual loss of jobs to Muggle technology."

"If only he knew that that bill was presented and sponsored by your followers, my lord," Cotnoir observed with a smile.

A smirk graced the Dark Lord's tilted head. "It is sponsored by the Magic for Tomorrow Foundation and has collected over a million forged signatures from our noble and unknowing citizens. So, when the Muggle sees that, he will jump out of his shoes." His smirk grew into a smile. "You must then show him the sales report to cement the idea of the magical peoples as a threat."

Cotnoir gave him a single nod, his blue eyes burned with attentiveness.

"By this point, he will call on Scrimgeour for an explanation because naturally, why did he allow this letter from a terrorist to be published in the most widely read newspaper in our world? Our Minister will deny his and the Wizarding world's support for my views, of course, and will either say that the reason why my letter was published was because of an oversight or because the Daily Prophet knew it would bring more profit that they've received all year. Either way, the Muggle will be unimpressed, and his already low view of our worthless ministers, will be lowered even more."

The Dark Lord paused to moisten his throat by taking a sip from his glass of whiskey. Cotnoir mimicked him.

"It is then that you must remind him of the Wizarding people's growing distrust of Muggles. Tell him, 'if neither Fudge not Scrimgeour were able to get rid of one mad man and his handful of followers, how will they be able to control a whole population?'"

The Dark Lord bent forward and placed his elbows on his thighs. "Therein, is the crux: I need the Muggle to feel like Scrimgeour can't protect him by keeping his people in check, and that he needs to bypass Scrimgeour and take things into his own hands - control the Wizard masses and neutralize them. I need to initiate a witch hunt."

The Dark Lord said his last sentence by emphasizing each word with his outstretched hands.

"A witch hunt," he repeated, "which will then drive the people to my arms for safety."

He stopped himself there and cursed, he shouldn't have revealed so much of his plan, but he got so caught up in the fantasy that he overlooked it. Thankfully, Cotnoir, although a squib, was capable enough to share his machinations with.

After his fall, Cotnoir had not only managed to keep himself out of Muggle and Wizard prison (something almost none of his magical followers had been able to do), but had remained active in Muggle politics and become the Junior Minister for the current Muggle Minister. A better spy he could not ask for.

"My lord, it would be an honor to carry out such an important task," Cotnoir said, voice like velvet.

The Dark Lord leaned back with a grin on his face and raised his glass to Cotnoir who mirrored his actions.

_**The plan is genius, pure genius . . . .**_


	17. Chapter 17

Thank you to all my reviewers, this chapter was particularly difficult, but very exciting. I'd been looking forward to it for a while (you'll see what I mean at the end).

Thank you to: decepticon-silverstreak, Ana Shadow Wolf, Aringle42, Team Edward Masen, Persenifikona, Battibeff, butterflyfaeries, monnbeam, shimmeringwater, Lk-Hogwarts Headgirl, jaspersluve1863, Armanifan101, Doctorfang, gsalilsecret, ihavenotdefinedwhoiam, Aisha04, sweet-tang-honney, dramionefan 17, Kirtash r, Inkfire, Ladylecter47, Dream a dream123, anon.

For some reason I wasn't able to respond to reviews via pms so here go some responses:

**Dream a dream 123:** if there is one thing that is predictable from all my fics, it's their bittersweet real life endings. Fairytale endings in this pairing are nice too, but I think realistic endings just add an extra sublime layer to this amazingly disturbing pairing. And good for you to notice the resemblance between Voldemort's set-up last chapter, and the Reichstag Fire! JK did mention she had Hitler in mind when coming up with Voldemort, so I thought touching up on that would be nice (even though I think charisma and a gift for speaking are the only two things that Voldemort and Hitler share, maybe it's because he's fictional, but V just seems to be so much more awe-inspiring, while Hitler comes out as pitiful to me.)

Anyway, in case you can't tell yet: I really enjoyed your review so thank you!

**Shimmeringwater**: thank you! Voldemort is my favorite so I try to do him justice (to make up for how his character was ruined in the books, IMO).

**Monnbeam:** and that is exactly what she will do in this chapter. : )

**Anashadowwolf: **it's like I told Shimemringwater, Voldemort has such potential in the books, but he was totally cheated (Especially towards the end); so here in the world of fanfics we try to do him justice and make him more human and not so much like the evil cartoon character he was made out to be in the books. I mean, JK never showed him doing anyhting other than torturing or plotting, and yet she said she made him so he would be a 3d baddie and not a 2d one, so to speak? Really? Anyway. End of rant. THANK YOU FOR YOUR LOVELY THOUGHTS!

**Decepticon-silverstreak**: my 300th reviewer! I dedicate this chapter to you. : )

**Finally, everyone enjoy, and I hope this installment makes the wait worth it !**

I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make money off these writings.

* * *

The clock's arm was five minutes past twelve when the ugly moving painting on the Minister's wall announced the arrival of Minister Scrimgeour.

Cotnoir shifted his weight between his feet and clasped his hands on his front as he bowed his head and hoped for a good outcome.

"About time," Mayer grumbled, "it's not enough that I have to look at his ugly painting all day, but I also have to wait for him."

Cotnoir decided not to comment and his decision was wise enough because just when his gaze returned from the pouting Muggle minister to the fireplace, Scrimgeour emerged from the Floo.

Mayer jumped in his seat at the loud popping noise that accompanied the other minister's arrival, and rearranged his lapel with pursed lips.

"Minister Mayer," Scrimgeour said in greeting and then nodded at Cotnoir, "Edel."

He sat down in the empty chair facing the Muggle minister and fixed him with an expectant glance. "You said it was important?"

Mayer cleared his throat as he straightened up in his seat. "I read this." He placed the Daily Prophet on his desk so that Scrimgeour was looking down at You-Know-Who's open letter.

"It's nothing you should worry about," he replied offhandedly while folding up the paper and making to put it in his coat pocket

"I will be keeping it," Mayer said, hand extended.

Scrimgeour's hand tightened on the folded newspaper, making it crackle as his patience begun to wear down. He had never liked Mayer.

"Very well."

The paper was dropped on Mayer's desk roughly.

"Why don't you want me to worry about this?" Mayer snapped while holding up the paper next to his head. "Were you trying to hide this? Were you not going to tell me like you are supposed to since this concerns my people and I?"

"I didn't consider it of importance –"

"And yet it gets a cover spread in your world's official newspaper?"

At the minister's angry outburst, Scrimgeour fell quiet, and then he said in a calm but contrived voice: "our press is free of government control –"

"Free press? There is no such thing, not even in your freak world!" Mayer snapped waving his fist in the air.

"The letter was mailed to them, and they published it! They were stupid and decided that selling more issues was more important than the ramifications of their action!" Scrimgeour finally yelled, "We are working on sanctioning them as we speak!"

"You're working on sanctioning them?" Mayer said quickly, "but I thought you said your press was free?"

"You don't question me! You Muggles are lucky enough that we are including you in our world and keep you updated with things that could affect you, but that does not mean you have any form of entitlement over us!"

"But apparently you do!" Mayer slapped his hand on the paper. "Publishing your articles rousing your masses to rise up against us normal folks! If it hadn't been for Edel bringing me this paper, I would've not known of your little plan because now I see that you are clearly behind this since you never intended on telling me!"

"This is Lord Voldemort's doing, those are a lunatic's thoughts and his thoughts alone. I didn't think of telling you because I know that his words carry no meaning with my people and should be given no importance."

"Well this Lord Voldemort sounded pretty rational and even intelligent for a lunatic," Mayer hissed, eyebrows raised.

"He packages his points well, but when you take off the fancy wrapping, his spiel is nonsensical and bigoted. He is a mass murderer, not a propaganda genius: his viewpoints will never be adopted by the magical community so he is not for you to worry about."

Cotnoir's eyes narrowed slightly, and he bit his bottom lip. He'd never realized just how much Scrimgeour underestimated the Dark Lord.

"Well if he's a simple lunatic who murders right and left, why isn't he behind bars?" Mayer asked, "This 'lord' has been around for almost 30 years now, and neither you nor Fudge have been able to apprehend him. So either he is a lot more powerful and intelligent than you think or you two are more incompetent than you realize!"

Cotnoir hid his laugh with a cough and constricted his stomach to prevent it from shaking with repressed laughter.

"I don't need you to tell me how to run my world, much less offer adjectives to describe my person," Scrimgeour said loudly as he got up, "this conversation is done! From now on, _I _will come if I need _you_ to know something."

"Is that so?" the minister bellowed, standing up and going around his desk towards Scrimgeour who was almost at the fireplace. "Well, maybe I'll seal off the fireplace with cement!"

"Better for me! Because then I don't have to take time from my busy day to warn you about attacks!"

"Warn me? Every time your lunatic has done something, you came to tell me about it after and what great help that was! You and your freak world put me in hot water every time I have to come up with ridiculous excuses to keep the calm in Britain which over the years have caused me credibility and thus, RE-ELECTION!" Mayer stopped to take a rattling breath, his face as red as Scrimgeour's tussled strands. "And all because you people are incapable of putting one criminal behind bars!"

Scrimgeour had stopped at the fireplace during his tirade, a cold look in his eyes. Cotnoir swallowed and tried to remain as still as possible so as to not give away his joy at how utterly perfect the tableaux had been set. All on its own too.

"Lord Voldemort is not a normal criminal, he is a psychopath at the head of a large terrorist organization. He was vanquished once, and we are sure we can do it again. As for your loss of re-election," Scrimgeour smirked, his eyes mirroring the scars on his face, "If Lord Voldemort wins, I assure you that will be the smallest of your losses."

With a turn of his heel and not a further glance, Scrimgeour flooed away.

"With you as his only opponent, I have no doubt he will win!" The Muggle minister bellowed at the now empty fireplace before turning back towards his desk, eyes squinted shut and fingers pinching the bridge of his pudgy nose. "Fix me a drink, Cotnoir."

"Right away," Edel responded, busying himself at the corner bar while sharpening his ears for the minister's upcoming tirade.

Mayer's shoulders were bunched and his hands gripped his wide hips so tightly, his knuckles were white. A sharp contrast with the brightly colored Persian carpet he was slowly pacing over.

Edel's smile was reserved. _Yes, the minister's tongue would flop like a flag out at sea._

"I knew these people would be a problem . . ."

The sound of glasses being filled was the only noise in the background.

"Whoever heard of two ministers for one country! That's a power grab waiting to happen! I wonder if other countries have this problem as well? I should ring up Defevre, Himmel, and Letyagin . . . see if they're dealing with the same problem because this situation is disturbing: not so much the article as the fact that they kept it from me, they are clearly plotting something."

Mayer extended his hand gratefully to accept the gin tonic Cotnoir prepared for him.

"What do you think, Edel? You have more insight into that world . . ." the minister muttered before drinking.

Edel took a sip and swished the liquid around in his mouth for a few seconds while looking thoughtful. "For a while I've had a suspicion that the people are siding with Voldemort as a reaction to Scrimgeour's pro-muggle policies. A bill has been presented by a group that wants to limit the use of Muggle technology in the workplace, they collected over a million citizen signatures, and because of its strong backing, it is almost certain it will pass."

"Yet another thing Scrimgeour didn't tell me about!" Mayer bellowed, his face turning plum, "Well, that is more his problem than mine because even though he may look down upon us, normal folks, he sure doesn't look down at all the handouts he gets from our investors."

"Which is why he and his partisans will find a way to block the passage of the bill which will put him at further odds with his people. They will grow more incensed, and thus, more dangerous for us because even though Scrimgeour is our ally, he is ineffectual."

"So we need to help Scrimgeour stay where he is, but start flexing our own muscle."

"Exactly, we need to exert greater control over the Wizarding world."

"Extinguishing it would be the smartest thing to do," Mayer muttered thoughtfully, "of course that's practically impossible."

"Not to mention the companies investing in it wouldn't let you, it's a hot, untapped market. Besides, starting a genocide is not a good idea: it's outdated and like you said, very impractical. No . . . no, we don't kill the cow, we capture it and milk it until it is completely spent."

"USLC will like that plan," Mayer said, eyes thoughtful, "they've been trying to convince Scrimgeour to allow them to open up a branch to introduce our financial model, especially credit cards."

"And I'm sure he'll support it, so long as they promise him stock. The Wizarding people would embrace the credit concept with open arms since it's increasing their spending power. We could also introduce some of our stores, telephones, computers . . . market it to the people directly and show them that Muggle technology will benefit them. Before you know it, they will have become completely dependent and will be under your control."

Mayer was nodding emphatically, his jaw twitching as the plan cemented in his mind. "We could then learn about their magic, too. See if our scientists can recreate the phenomena, and that way we would be on a more even playing field . . . but in the meantime, your idea would work perfectly. We just have to make sure to keep the Americans out or else they will run us out of our own market."

"So, what we need to do first is start extending our control over the Wizarding world. We need to have Scrimgeour register all wizards residing in the British Isles, that way we have all of them tracked. When you meet with him, make sure you are with Craine and Hogan, that way Scrimgeour won't dare say 'no' for fear of losing his corporate handouts."

"But what about Voldemort? As soon as we start asking them to register with us, the people will go to him in fear."

"They don't have to know the list is for us. We could have Scrimgeour organize an emergency census and tell the people it's due to the war. They won't question it, and he can then pass that onto us. As for Voldemort," Craine smirked and placed a hand on Mayer's shoulder, "he's one terrorist. We can get rid of him easily if we bring in the assistance of the Americans and the French."

"But then we'd have to share the market," Frank mumbled, "we can try to exterminate him and his group on our own first, and if we need help, then we'll call Lefevre. The Americans can be our last resort because even though they will be on the balls of their feet at the prospect of getting involved in another war, when the war is won, they will monopolize the market, and we'll be left with their crumbs."

"A very smart strategy," Cotnoir said quietly.

Mayer was nodding his head, his eyes darting as he went over all the plans they'd made.

"Well then, first things first: get Craine and Hogan on the line, we have to set up the meeting, tell them to get in contact with Scrimgeour, I don't want to give him a minute of my time . . . ."

"Of course, my liege"

Edel once more fought a smile as he exited the minister's office and went into his own.

* * *

After Rufus got back from his tempestuous meet-up with Mayer, he had summoned Higginbaum immediately and laid all his pent-up anger from his morning meeting on the editor. By the end of the rather short meeting, Higginbaum agreed to run articles involving the war by Scrimgeour's office before publication.

However, that did not remedy the fact that he had looked like an incompetent fool in front of the Muggle minister. Scrimgeour scrunched up his face as he looked out his window with a frown. He shouldn't mind that much, after all he was just a Muggle minister. Craine and Hogan were the two Muggles he wanted to be in good standing with, and they were more than happy with him and the small market inclusion he provided their companies.

At first, Rufus had been reluctant to allow Muggle products into the Wizarding world, he had been more conservative back then. However, Dolores had convinced him to allow a few technologies into the Ministry to save money and use that to reinforce the Auror and Unspeakable forces and aid them in their fight with Voldemort. Something which neither Fudge nor his predecessor had done and would warm the people up to Rufus. Presented with such a scenario, he had gone with her advice, and things had turned out pretty well. Not only was he being lauded for saving money and funneling it towards the war effort, but he was receiving a very handsome compensation from the Muggle companies themselves.

Who, consequently, had been asking for a bigger stake of the market for a while now . . . and maybe he would give it to them, they were offering to compensate him nicely, and it would boost the economy to unprecedented levels which would put him on a gold pedestal above all other ministers . . . now if only he could add getting rid of Voldemort as one of his accomplishments.

Scrimgeour was brought back from his daydream abruptly as his greatest frustration came forth. It was unbelievable how in spite of all his actions, the snake still managed to get stronger. He had to admit that Mayer's words had stung deeply:

_"(…)so either he's more powerful and intelligent_

_than you think or you two are more_

_incompetent than you realize!"_

He didn't want to be another minister that got walked all over by Voldemort, no he would make sure the "lord" would go down with him.

"Minister!"

Rufus turned towards the female voice and jumped out of his seat, wand in hand at seeing Bellatrix Lestrange's face in his fireplace.

"What are you doing here? How did you get through?" Rufus demanded.

"That doesn't matter, minister," Bellatrix hissed, "I came because I want to make you an offer I am sure you will enjoy: I can help you capture the Dark Lord."

"What are you talking about?" Rufus spat as he came closer towards the fireplace. He knew that Bellatrix had left Voldemort's service, his spies had let him in on that and all the soap operaesque details.

"I have something of his, something very valuable that he will come searching for when I let him know I have it. I could bring this item into a location of your choosing and have him go there –"

"The problem is not getting him to come here, Lestrange, it's apprehending him!" Scrimgeour snapped.

"Which is why you will ask your Unspeakables to bring Prometheus' Orb into the location so that when the Dark Lord Apparates there, the orb will suck all his power."

"The orb doesn't work on people, our magical energy levels are too low."

"Not the Dark Lord's, his energy levels are high enough for the orb to confound him with a power source and drain him dry."

Rufus narrowed his eyes as he weighed his options: he knew this wasn't a plan by Voldemort since Bellatrix was a scorned woman who was clearly acting from wounded lover's pride. He could let her bring Voldemort into a highly warded room in the Unspeakables department; if the orb worked, then he would have his problem solved, and if it didn't . . . well, he had Lestrange to show off as a war trophy, and he was sure she would be more than willing to spill the beans on her ex-master.

"Fine."

"I will be requiring immunity for my efforts naturally."

"If we catch him, then we will allow you safe passage out of the country and never go after you again."

She smirked, "lovely as your offer sounds on your lips, I need it on parchment and with a Wizard's oath."

"Fine, but only if we capture Lord Voldemort and bring him under our complete control."

Bellatrix smiled. "Do the oath then, and tell me where you want the package delivered."

A bubble of excitement started to swell rapidly inside Scrimgeour's stomach as he turned towards his desk to summon parchment and a quill. Even though paper and pens were the norm now at the Ministry, he still preferred the old-fashioned ways for himself.

* * *

"Hermione, if you can't quiet your mind, then focus it on your breathing. You can't jump around from a useless thought to a revealing one and then back to a harmless one! Doing that destabilizes your mind and makes it easier to breach. If you can't focus on a single mundane thought, then focus on your breathing."

"Okay," Hermione said quickly, her brow furrowed. Of course, he had to start training her in Occlumency the day her mind decided to solve all the world's problems.

"Breathe in deeply, fill your lungs with air until they are full, then hold it for a few seconds ," Hermione followed his instructions as Voldemort spoke them in a controlled tone. She saw his hand slide out from his pocket and dig into her side right below her ribs. "Inhale more until you push my hand out, keep going . . . get more air in. Now hold it for a few seconds and release."

Hermione let all the air out in one relieved sigh.

He sniffed mockingly, "softer next time, more controlled. Not only is this an exercise your mind needs to be focused on, but it is also good for keeping calm when under interrogation."

"Dumbledore's not going to interrogate me," Hermione said, "he'll just ask questions."

"And if he finds something off, he'll turn it into an interrogation pretty quickly, I assure you," Voldemort replied. "When he asks what I did this week, tell him I met with some followers from other countries – make up names, " he gestured with his hands as he strolled around her, "you can also tell him I captured a few aurors and had them interrogated to find Bellatrix's whereabouts, they gave us a lead that she was shacked up in Northern Scotland, you can say."

Hermione nodded as he continued his speech. Now that she was no longer the Order emissary, she wasn't allowed into his meetings, and so Voldemort was now feeding her whatever came into his mind.

At first, Hermione had panicked thinking that she was serving her friends and her side to Voldemort on a silver platter, but after rereading the contract, she realized that things for the Order hadn't really changed. Even though Voldemort's activities were no longer tracked like they were before through her, he could still not plot against the Order or its members due to the other clauses in the contract which stipulated that Scrimgeour's regime must go under for the Alliance to be dissolved and things to go back to normal. Plus, it's not like she had ever been allowed to divulge all the things that went on in his meetings to Dumbledore or the Order, only if there was foul play would she have been allowed to talk.

So no, things hadn't really changed for the Order. However, the same could not be said for her. Once she stopped being an emissary, all her protections had been taken away from both Voldemort and his Death Eaters. However, after she got engaged to the Dark Lord, he had made it very clear to his followers that she was not to be touched or disrespected.

As for Voldemort, Hermione had been very careful not to anger him, and was getting increasingly good at assuaging him when he came to their room in a fury due to his Death Eaters.

Apparently, the Dark Lord had two ways of blowing off steam: he either crucioed it out or he fucked it out, and Hermione had no doubt which of the two she preferred.

"Let's try again."

Hermione nodded and started doing the breathing exercises he'd taught her.

"Make it seem more natural, Hermione," he chastised, "I should not be able to tell that you are doing a breathing exercise, the whole point of occluding through focused breathing is that the person trying to get information from you will not even realize you are occluding them. Because your thoughts are focused on your breathing, you can let the legilimens into your mind where they will find nothing. No mundane thoughts meant to cover up important ones, no nervousness or protective walls. Nothing, thus, they will think you know nothing and will not waste their time with you."

Hermione collected herself once more and tried to imagine she was facing Dumbledore.

"Okay."

She begun the breathing sequence trying to look as normal as possible and keeping her nervousness on a tight leash as she felt him going into her mind.

_Hold . . . and release in 1 . . . 2. . .3_

"Don't chant it in your mind, I can hear it and will know you're covering something up."

"But you said to focus on my breathing, I have to think about something . . . I can't just stop thinking. At least not yet," Hermione said meekly.

"Try," he said through gritted teeth, a clear sign of his waning patience. "Find an object in the back and focus your gaze on it, think about it while you continue your breathing."

With renewed determination, Hermione chose a vase at the far end of the room, right next to the doors. Just when she felt him entering her mind once more, she set about describing the vase and working on her breathing. She tried to jump as smoothly as possible from one to the other and gradually spend less time focused on the vase, and more blanking out her mind through her breathing.

"Good," she heard him mutter. "Just like that."

Hermione fought hard to keep the frisson of pride from throwing her off, she felt her focus stumble though, but quickly regained her footing.

"So, Hermione, how has the Dark Lord been treating you lately?"

"Fine," _Dumbledore would never call you the Dark Lord though,_ she added; however, he did not acknowledge her comment.

"What do you mean by 'fine'?"

_Oh what a pretty, pretty vase_

"Are you alright, Hermione? You seem tense." Voldemort clasped his hands and knitted his brow so that he had a look of mild concern on his face.

"I'm fine means just that: I'm fine. Everything is as it has always been." Hermione replied brusquely.

"You're angry, Hermione, your anger tells me I should keep digging. Focus on your breathing and do not let your emotions get the best of you!"

Hermione swallowed and breathed out her anger through her nose as she started the exercise once more.

"I'm sorry if I seem on edge," she said quietly, "I am going through some stressful times right now; so, I'm sorry if I snapped at you."

Hermione chanced a look up at him, meeting his eyes. She felt him enter her mind and survey the inside she was trying hard to keep empty. Silently, he pulled out.

"Well, I'm very sorry to hear that, Ms. Granger, but know that you have Harry and myself to talk to should things get too overwhelming for you."

"Thank you, professor, I will keep that in mind," Hermione replied.

"Keep practicing your breathing," Voldemort said," and get it to become second nature, that way you don't give away the fact you're doing a breathing exercise. Overall, a good performance though."

He turned around and walked back towards his desk which Hermione took as the end of their lesson for the day.

Unsure of what to do, Hermione wrung her hands together and looked down as she fiddled with her ring and strolled towards him.

"Lot of work?" she asked conversationally as she glanced briefly at the papers on his desk before fixing him with her gaze.

"Unfortunately," he replied shortly, eyes on the sheet of parchment in his hand.

Hermione nodded and looked down, once more fiddling with her ring. It struck her then how dependent she'd become on him: now that she couldn't do anything with him, she didn't know what to do.

"Go read a book, visit your parents, go with Ginny. Consider this your day off," he looked up briefly with a smirk.

Ginny . . . that would be nice actually, it had been a while since she'd been with a female friend.

"I hope Ginny can go out on such short notice," she mumbled more to herself than him.

"Show her your ring, and she'll know not to refuse you," he muttered distractedly.

"No, I would never abuse my power like that," Hermione said sheepishly. _My power . . ._it sounded strange to say the least, but as future Dark Lady she would have a fair amount of power.

"Really?" he put his papers down and reached for her until she was sitting on his lap, "not even with the Malfoys?"

He played with a strand of her hair as he surveyed her confused visage.

"Not unless they do something to me . . . ."

"Oh . . . but haven't they already imposed upon you a lifetime of abuse?" his arms wrapped around her waist as he started kissing her neck. "Ever since you set foot in our world, Draco taunted you . . . and every time Lucius got a chance he treated you no better than his house elves. Then there was your little interaction at the ministry your fifth year . . . and a few months ago after you hit Draco."

Hermione didn't respond in his silence, she was tossing helplessly amongst waves of conflicting emotions.

"Wouldn't it be nice to let them know that you have the upper hand now? To let them know that you are their mistress? A mere Mudblood as they have called you countless times? Someone whose intellectual prowess they denied solely on the basis of blood?"

"Stop it," Hermione said weakly, eyes closed due to the great pleasure he was causing to her neck.

"I am right though aren't I, Hermione? Right and wrong doesn't matter here . . . just the facts and they are correct, wouldn't you agree?

"Yes." She pushed him away, "but that doesn't mean I would stoop down to their level. I will show them respect and kindness where they showed me none, and that way I am sure I will win their respect."

"If you show them kindness they will take it as you accepting their superior status as purebloods, and they'll walk all over you," he snapped, "and I will not let my Death Eaters think that I have chosen a weak wife."

Hermione remained quiet. He might have a point there, after all the Death Eaters weren't exactly a moral group so her turning of the cheek would most likely be interpreted as weakness.

"I think we should take things as they come and not create problems before they have arrived," she said silently while getting off his lap. "I'll see you later tonight."

Turning around, Hermione begun her walk towards the door at the end of the room.

"You're going to have to let go of your morals soon, Hermione," he called out, "in this environment they will only make you vulnerable, and I am not about to sign my life away as your private babysitter."

"I will try to loosen them up as much as I can for you, but they will always remain there, and just like I can't expect you to obtain morals, so should you not expect me to let go of them."

The Dark Lord fiddled with his quill as he listened to her, and right after she had turned around and continued walking, she heard him sigh.

"You're making me rethink this engagement."

Hermione deemed not to respond to his comment as she went out the door and towards one of the sitting rooms from where she would Disapparate. It had hurt to hear him say that, but it also angered her: was he honestly expecting her to turn evil and start murdering on command for him? All this time she had made it clear that she would never be involved with his cause, only him. So why was he so intent on changing her now? Wasn't her loyalty towards him enough?

Hermione bit her lip angrily, if he was expecting her to turn into Bellatrix he would be sorely disappointed. She would never turn into his drooling lapdog, much less would she give over complete control over herself to him. He'd said that wasn't what he wanted though, he'd always said that he liked her feistiness and willingness to challenge him mentally. That the reason why he hadn't made Bellatrix his wife was because of her sickening dependency.

Had he changed his mind? Or . . . Hermione swallowed, feelings of anger once more renewed . . . be playing her.

He knew she loved him, and that she would take his comment to heart; so was he hoping she would try to change for fear of him breaking up their engagement? _I don't think he wants me to change, though,_ Hermione added, the tears in her eyes quickly drying as her logical mind unraveled her fiance's play.

It was awful to say, but he was more than likely just messing with her for the fun of it: getting her riled up to ease his boredom at the mountains of tedious work ahead of him. A toy, that was all she had been at that moment.

Hermione let out a sob and buried her face in her hand, this is what she was going to have to put up with for the rest of her life if she married him. Him, a sociopath. A life of emotional, maybe even physical, abuse.

She couldn't marry him, her logical mind was saying, but at the same time her heart ached at the thought of not being with him. As illogical as it sounded to her, the prospect of not seeing him again was twice as scary, as that of marrying him and bearing his abuse.

Had she really become that dependent?

Hands shaking, Hermione got up from the sofa and started pacing around the sitting room, breathing quickening at the realization that for the first time in her life her emotions were clouding her judgment. The one thing she had made herself promise would never happen had happened, and she was at a loss of what to do.

Her hands were pulling at her hair, seeking release from the tension building inside of her. Hermione's sobs increased in number and speed at her realization that her worst fear had finally come true: she had failed. She had trampled over the one rule she had set for herself and had taken care of never to breach: to never allow her emotions to get ahead of her rationale.

Rocking herself in quiet desperation, Hermione fell back down on the sofa. Her sobs quieting and being replaced by an internal cold, an unrelenting gust of icy remorse and disappointment.

She had failed. Lost to Him. Always in her life she'd strived to be number one, and she had always achieved this; however, now, she'd come in last, failed, in what would probably be the most important decision in her life. So she had gotten all O's in her O.W.L.S and N.E.W.T.S, made prefect and head girl, brewed Polyjuice potion at age 12 . . . so what? Those were little things, adornments. Things that would have no real relevance on her future. When it came to her life itself though what had she done? Completely given herself over to him, locked herself in a chest and given him the key.

She should've never allowed herself to fall in love with him. But Hermione had been so distracted by his intellectual prowess, that she had mistaken romantic love for academic admiration and allowed it to remain inside her rather than plucking out the rotten seed before it came to fruition.

Hermione might've been intellectually intelligent, but had been tremendously ignorant when it came to emotional intelligence. She'd had no idea. Her books and knowledge had not taught her the finer working of social and romantic interaction, in those areas she had been more ignorant than the whole of Hogwarts combined, she was beginning to realize. Hermione had always dismissed romantic relationships in favor of her studies, nourished her intellect and neglected her emotions; so, of course, she had been easy bait for Him.

And yet he was her fiancé, the man she loved and would be spending the rest of her life with. The man who would father her children . . . she couldn't leave him. Hermione knew that she would never be as miserable with him as she would be without him: the thought of losing him alone made hot flashes run through her crouching body, no, that tableau was too horrible to imagine. . . .

"Hermione."

Said girl didn't respond and instead waited until she heard the floorboards creak under his slowly approaching shoes. She blinked away her last remaining tear in the rapidly drying edge of her eye and looked away as he sat down next to her with a sigh that was rapidly lost in the sea of silence.

A sea that neither one was willing to cross.

Hermione gently closed her eyes, and to the tune of the deaf man's music, freed her mind like a bird from the suffocating cage her thoughts had built around it.

"How did you find me?" she finally breathed out, eyes still closed.

"Deepti worried you were having another nervous episode."

Hermione pursed her lips and squinted her eyes while pressing them into her palm. "She thinks me that unstable . . ."

Hermione bit her lip as he poured more water into the sea of silence separating them.

"Many, many years ago," he begun slowly, "I was told by a certain someone to do what was right and not what was easy."

Hermione felt tempted to turn around just to see the look on his face, but she could tell by the tension-filled interlude in conversation, that he was not done speaking.

"And perhaps it was due to the deliverer of the saying, but I never gave it much credibility until a few minutes ago while I listened in on your thoughts."

Hermione's breath caught as she put two and two together, a frown quickly entrenching herself in her forehead.

"That's not really what he meant by that . . ."

She turned to look at him as he fiddled with his wand in his hands.

"Sayings are to be interpreted by the listener not the speaker."

"Okay, but your interpretation is self-serving, narrow-minded and –"

"Breaking it off with me and going on with your life and your morals and your beloved Order is the easy way, but marrying me -"

"Actually, it's the exact opposite," Hermione interrupted, her voice gaining her usual strength and tone. "Marrying you is the easy thing to do because I love you, and so I would be doing what would be best for me while ignoring the consequences my actions would have on everyone else around me. Whereas breaking it off with you – "

"If marrying me were such a walk in the park, then you wouldn't be having all these little episodes," he snapped, "but how many sniffle sessions would you have by returning to your friends and wrapping yourself in the safety blanket the "good side" label provides to you and your Order?"

"A lot more than now, and you know why? Because I love _you_," Hermione hissed.

To her surprise, he let out a forced angry laugh and threw up his arms, "well then why are you still having these guilt trip sessions?"

He turned in the seat so that he was facing her, "if you know that you can't go back to them because you want to be me, then why do you keep beating yourself up over it? Why do you keep taking a step forward and then jumping two back? Why can't you make a choice and stick by it?"

Hermione swallowed and her eyes filled with tears once more. "I wouldn't expect you to understand how a conscience operates."

"It's not about your conscience, honey," he said roughly, "it's about you not wanting to let go of the "good" person label and the sense of superiority you Order members get from it."

Hermione stared, her face a blank canvas.

"I never forced you into a relationship with me, you chose that, but to soothe your "good" person ego, you convinced yourself that it was a temporary thing and only to fix your relationship with Weasley by taking time away from him so as to appreciate him. Where the logic is in that, I will never understand!" he intoned with wide eyes, "but that was your insurance policy against a bruised "good" person ego. Then, we get engaged, again out of your own freewill, and what does your goody two shoes ego do to protect itself? Have these little 'woe me' sessions where you make yourself a helpless, innocent victim who just happened to fall into the claws of the evil Dark Lord and now has no other choice but to remain there as a victim of circumstance."

The Dark Lord paused his angry tirade and his bottom lip curled in the way that it did when he made a mistake. . . in this case, a slip of the tongue. Hermione frowned.

"I just . . . I don't like it when you question yourself so much because it makes me think that you might . . . change your mind."

He looked up at her, tension visibly etched onto his face.

Hermione's glance softened along with her voice. "I'm not leaving you, Tom, that thought never crossed my mind. I've just been having trouble adjusting to my future life, but I think you're right." She placed her hands on his, "I have been . . . emotionally unreasonable lately . . . especially since I already know what I will do, and I've just been putting off facing all the consequences that my decision would bring."

She squeezed his hand and smiled slightly. "I am not doing that anymore, but my choice regarding us is set in stone."

He smiled, his hand coming up to her chin before pulling her face towards his.

Hermione smiled and closed her eyes as they shared a small and rather brief kiss.

"I have to go back to my meeting, but we'll talk later."

He squeezed her arm before getting up and walking past Hermione and out the room. The brunette remained in her seat, but her eyes stared a million miles away through the floor-length windows, imperative thoughts holding a debate in her mind.

* * *

"I hope for your sake, Edel, that you bring me good news," the Dark Lord greeted as he threw the doors to his rooms open.

Said servant stumbled off his feet and into a hasty vow, no doubt sensing the Dark Lord's irritable mood and all because of his own quick temper and loose tongue.

"I think you will be pleased, my lord," Edel said quickly as they both took their seats and he begun his explanations.

Voldemort listened only half-heartedly, he was still seething about his slip of the tongue. He should've never confronted Hermione about her anxiety attacks, as annoying and infantile as he thought they were. He should've left her in her confusion, not cleared up the fog from her mind.

" - he alone came to the conclusion that he needed to take more control. So, I suggested he organize a census of the Wizarding people -"

"Cotnoir," the Dark Lord cut in, eyes closed and palm raised, "start from the beginning and tell me _everything_."

"Of course."

Cotnoir took a deep breath and begun his tale just as Voldemort occluded his thoughts on Hermione out of his present mind while feeling a bristle of annoyance at the fact that he couldn't simply ignore them.

* * *

Hermione's clammy hands clenched in her pockets as she stood outside Grimmauld Place: the house looked particularly dreary and sad in the overcast day. It was as if it, along with the weather, knew what she was about to do, as if they knew it was a bad idea.

Hermione swallowed and clenched her jaw, slowly rubbing her ring finger against her jacket's lining and feeling her ring pressing against the top of her finger.

_I have to do this. Not just for myself, but especially for them, I owe them this much._

After Tom had left, Hermione had realized that the scar she had had on the palm of her hand as a result of the vow, had disappeared. His, too, had gone, and it was then that made Hermione realize that they were truly on the same side now, and that the more she put off coming clean with the Order, the longer they would be at a disadvantage since they didn't have an emissary anymore.

After that, she'd put her 'woe me's aside and gotten back on her path, ready to go forward and not take any steps back like Tom had said.

And this, this was the final step. The tearing out of her roots, the cutting of her umbilical chord . . . the conclusion of the performance she'd put on for the past year.

With one final breath, she raised her hand and knocked on the door.

_No more turning back._

* * *

"I need to have that in writing," Voldemort said trying to appear cool and collected instead of overeager and excited, "a letter or email or whatever Mayer wants . . . explaining how this census is meant to register all wizards so as to allowing for greater control."

At this, Cotnoir smiled and pulled out a sheet of paper from a file which he placed on the coffee table between them. Summoning every inch of restraint, Voldemort fought not to rip the paper out of Cotnoir's hand and instead waited for it to be on the table before picking it up.

"Mayer asked me to email Hogan and Craine asking for a meeting and explaining its purpose. . . I have yet to receive a response, but as soon as I do I will provide you copies of everything, my liege."

Voldemort bit down hard on his bottom lip to prevent a smile from splashing onto his forcibly cool visage, it was all working out so well, it was almost too good to be true. "Did you owl this to Scrimgeour? I need to have him respond to it . . . ."

"Actually Mayer wanted to speak with Craine and Hogan alone before meeting with Scrimgeour to explain everything."

Voldemort's pursed lips moved to the side causing Cotnoir to jump back into the conversation with a reassuring tone, "I calculate that by the end of next week, the meeting with Scrimgeour will occur, my lord, Mayer is really feeling threatened."

"Speed it up, Edel," he hissed, eyes on his servant, "I need this to go fast."

He needed to get Scrimgeour out of power before Hermione's mental fog cleared up, and she realized she needed to inform the Order about her change of allegiance. Once Rufus was out of power, the Alliance's purpose would be fulfilled and it would no longer be in place, which would mean that the unsuspecting Order would be completely at his mercy.

However, after tonight's little slip of the tongue courtesy of himself, he wasn't so sure he had as much time as he'd previously thought, Hermione was a quick girl and that little nudge he gave her was probably all she needed to realize the correct course of action. He needed to go see her, talk to her and undo this . . . use her own conscience and moral baggage to confuse her once more.

* * *

"Alright, Lestrange, we have the orb, the protected room and half the Auror and Unspeakable forces, how is it that you are going to convince your 'oh so daft' lord to come into this ambush?"

Bellatrix glared at the minister as she drew out the cup from her bag. Scrimgeour didn't deserve the honor she was bestowing upon him . . . but the thought of bringing down the Dark Lord appealed to her more.

Steeling herself for what was to come and feeling the butterflies in her stomach, the shabby looking, crazed-hair witch walked into the middle of the room where the crystal orb floating above a marble pedestal stood. She could feel its magic pulsating out towards her, licking her magical essence and then withdrawing disappointedly.

Bellatrix smiled as she laid the cup down besides it and trained her wand on it, the orb was going to feast on her Lord when he arrived. With another deep breath and a racing heart, she drew her wand above her head and with a downward slash, bellowed:

"CRUCIO!"

* * *

"The survey shouldn't take more than a month, my lord," Cotnoir said, hands clasped and eyes fixed on his master's impatient ones. "Mayer understands the urgency of it, and he will be sure to communicate it to his investors."

"I need you to speed this up, Edel," Voldemort said straightening himself up, "We cannot go for –"

Out of nowhere, it was like a train had hit him. The Dark Lord bent forward gasping for breath, eyes squinted shut, his body aching with the Cruciatus, but the pain in his head took the cake.

_Skull-splitting,_ he managed to think to himself before his thoughts were once more overridden by the extreme pain. He registered falling on his knees and Cotnoir calling him.

Cursing himself for having added this protection to his Horcuxes, Voldemort allowed himself to be taken to where the Horcrux in distress was.

* * *

Bellatrix slowly stepped back once she finished the curse on the cup, her chest heaving rapidly as she saw the Horcrux pulsating red.

Then, the wind picked up in the room, and Bellatrix let out a triumphant laugh as she felt him nearing.

It was almost done . . . .

* * *

In the haze of Apparition, the pain disappeared, and Voldemort quickly organized his thoughts and his power as he clenched his wand more tightly: he knew he would have to be ready to fight whoever was victimizing his Horcrux.

To his great surprise, when he landed, he was met with none other than Bellatrix Lestrange in a room with Aurors and Unspeakables. Why even Scrimgeour was there . . . well, was this Bellatrix's idea of a reconciliation gift? His heart sped up excitedly as he looked around at the soon to be participants of his bloodbath, but just then, he caught a pulsating light out of the corner of his eye and his face fell as he saw the orb register his magic and mistake him for a power source. Out of reflex, he put up the strongest shield he could muster just as the orb's light shot out towards him. He realized his mistake the second the orb greedily sucked in his shield and then followed his magic's path towards him.

There was panic in his mind right before it hit him, and then nothing more.


	18. Chapter 18

**Thank you** to all my reviewers for their patience and wonderful reviews!: hateme101, potatos2121, Sabine Eileen Snape, Tizmine, Apsaras Yoma, Ms. Velvela, Allessaria, Megii of Mysteri OusStranger, PrincessNyxxx, ButterflyFairies, What-Ansketil-Did-Next, DoctorFang, Decepticon-silverstreak, gsalilsecret, alannalove1990, hi, Alibelly, Aisha04, Dramione-Fan 17, Anon, Shan84, DreamaDream123, Sweet-tand-honney, Aringle42, Armanifan101, Inkfire, David Boreanaz's wife, KittykateKat.

**Potatos2121**: I wanted to respond to your review, but since you didn't sign in I couldn't. Anyway, the whole sociopath/ psychopath thing is debated constantly. Some say the label is interchangeable, others ascertain it is not due to poignant differences between the two. I am one of the latter, and you the former; so if anything, neither of us is wrong, we are just on opposite sides of the fence. I didn't take your comment the wrong way btw, so no worries on that ;) in fact, if you want we can have a little debate on the topic through pm so just message me if you feel up to it!

**Sabine Eileen Snape:** Hey, oh you have no idea how much I wanted to message you back! What gave you the impression the story was over? I would never spring an ending like that, I give my readers a heads up many chapters before. Anyway, Im glad you've liked the story so far and hope you will come to check or reread this sometime so you can read the continuation.

**To All My Readers:** Only Three more chapters to go before the end! Thank you for waiting patiently and enjoy, you all earned it. ALso, if the plot confuses you (a lot of new information is given in their chapter, please feel free to let me know, and I will go over it with you).

* * *

In a Pavlovian manner, Hermione's thumb went over to her ring finger and pressed down on it for support at the sound of the approaching footsteps. Upon feeling a slight pain due to the unrelenting force the metal projected onto her thumb pad, Hermione was reminded of the implications of said ring. With fumbling hands and pressed breaths, she took her hands out of her pockets and slid the ring off her finger and back into her pocket just as the door was opened.

"Hermione."

Molly Weasley's unsurprised tone and pursed lips brought a sense of déjà vu in Hermione: back in her fourth year when Skeeter's writings drove a wedge between her and Molly.

"Molly," she said with a small smile, "can I come in?"

The redhead shrugged and turned around. "You're an Order member, I can't stop you."

Hermione bit her lip as she entered the foyer and closed the door behind her. She could hear voices coming from the kitchen and with one last sigh that strengthened her resolve, Hermione begun her walk towards it.

"Haven't seen you in a while."

Hermione looked up at Draco who was leaning against the staircase railing: his expression not nearly as hostile as Hermione expected it to be.

"I heard about . . ." he said quietly, his right middle finger going to rub his left ring finger.

"Ah . . . so that explains it then," Hermione whispered, arms crossed as she slowly meandered towards him.

"When are you going to share the news?" Draco's eyes rolled towards the kitchen as he said this.

"Why do you care?"

The lack of a smirk or disdainful expression on Malfoy's face was starting to daunt her.

"Because Granger," _there was the Malfoy smirk_, "after you tell them, you're going to need an army of bodyguards to help you leave this place unscathed."

Hermione swallowed and looked down at a small table underneath the staircase.

"They . . ."

Realistically speaking, she knew he was right, as soon as she told them she was engaged to the Dark Lord, they would detain her and call the Aurors at the very least. Kill her at the worst. How could she not have foreseen this?

Hermione closed her eyes and groaned. Angry once more as she realized she had acted on a feeling to come here instead of thinking it through as she usually would.

_Crap_, she had to get her feelings under control. They were going to ruin her life if they kept making decisions for her.

"You didn't think about that before coming here?"

Malfoy's surprised outburst was followed by a snort. "Jesus, Granger . . . never thought you'd lose your head over anyone."

"Hermione!"

The brunette and Draco looked up as Harry stepped in, hands fisted. "Mrs. Weasley said you'd come, but you were taking so long that I came out to see what was happening. I should've guessed Malfoy would be up to his old tricks!"

"Harry, it's fine!" Hermione replied briskly as she ran up to him to stop him from launching himself at Draco. "He wasn't bothering me."

"Merlin, Potter, you've got it bad for Granger don't you? I should mention that to Weasel next time," Malfoy said snidely as he went up the stairs. "Give him a clue as to why she broke up with him."

Hermione glared up at Draco at that and clutched onto Harry with more strength so as to prevent him from going up after Malfoy.

"Harry you have to stop letting him get to you like this, you're only making his day by doing so."

"Whatever, I'm just so ready for this stupid Alliance to be over," Harry mumbled before looking up with a tired smile at her, "there's still some lunch left if you want to grab some."

Hermione shook her head and declined quietly as they headed for the kitchen anyway. As they walked, Hermione bit her lip and cursed Harry for being so wonderful to her: he should treat her like scum for what she was soon to do. Her self-deprecating train of thought was interrupted, however, when they heard a flurry of robes behind them. Hermione and Harry turned around only to be met with an ecstatic looking Dumbledore.

Hermione's breath caught in her chest at the grin on his face and blinding twinkle of his eyes.

"Voldemort's been caught! He's in Ministry custody!"

"What? How?" Harry asked coming towards the headmaster.

"I don't know all the details, but apparently they lured him to the Department of Mysteries and used Prometheus' Orb to drain his power: he's practically a Muggle now! He's got no magical power left! Isn't it a sweet irony, my boy?"

Dumbledore clapped his hands in delight and then, having caught sight of a stunned Hermione uttered, "it's over, Hermione, the war is over!"

His message was clear, and her well-trained survival instinct kicked in.

Out of reflex, Hermione's frozen face broke into a grin as she nodded and returned Harry's ecstatic hug. She was in auto-pilot at the moment, she could see herself smiling and walking behind a running Harry while Dumbledore laid a hand on her shoulder. Hermione was muddling in shock and confusion, she had receded into that special hidden corner of her mind the moment the news had reached her ears, and from her library-like abode, she saw herself acting out with the amount joy that was expected of her.

"Are you sure?" Molly was calling out, her eyes filled with tears. At Dumbledore's confirmation, she let out a sob and buried her face into Arthur's chest.

"I can't believe this is happening," Remus muttered as a grinning Tonks grabbed him by the forearms and planted a long kiss on his now smiling lips.

"Oh my God, oh my God, I can't fucking believe this . . ." Harry was muttering, eyes wide, hands combing through his hair. "I never thought this day would come! And the ministry, too?"

Hermione could still fell herself smiling even though her facial muscles were starting to ache from having to display the prolonged clown grin instead of scrunching up and letting out sob after hearty sob. Ginny was also smiling, not forcefully like Hermione, but rather with confused relief.

The room erupted in laughter and joyful cries as Fred and George brought out a case of fire whisky and placed it on the table. It was then, that Hermione felt herself being pulled away. It was Dumbledore, she realized, who had her by the forearm and was leading her into the empty sitting room. He guided her towards the armchair next to the window and took a seat in the loveseat facing her after he warded the room with what Hermione assumed were silencing and locking spells.

The uncontrolled grin on his face was completely gone now, Hermione realized, he looked sober and focused as always.

"Hermione."

She couldn't bring herself to respond. She didn't want to talk, didn't want to think.

Dumbledore, however, had also become silent and was now observing her with thoughtful eyes, a gnarly finger coming towards his lips in a pensive gesture. Finally, he looked down with a sigh.

" I confess myself truly disappointed in you, Hermione."

_And he truly was,_ a part of Hermione thought, the part of her that knew the headmaster from her school days. In those days, that tone would have stopped her breathing and made her grovel at Dumbledore's feet for another chance; however, now she didn't care, for there was now only one man whose disappointment would cut through her like a newly minted sword.

"I now see you never intended on killing him, you lied to me and held us back by not revealing your true allegiance. You are the worst of traitors for betraying your friends and the people who welcomed you with open arms when you first came into this world."

At his harsh words, Hermione met his eyes with her tear filled ones. "I didn't put you at a disadvantage, if I had become aware of him going around the vow and taking action against The Order, I would've told you immediately."

"I warned you against falling for him," Dumbledore continued while shaking his head, "I told you that no good would come from it."

"And yet you asked me to use my closeness with him to kill him," Hermione suddenly snapped, "so it sounds to me like you found a way to make it work for you," Hermione fell silent as she felt her new found anger magnifying due to her bereavement, and her pent up sobs turning into biting remarks, "you wanted me to fall for him, or else as soon as you saw how attached I was becoming to him, you would've made me pull out of the mission. I also find it hard to believe that someone who preaches about the power of love would be so ignorant on the subject that he would think a warning and a speech about the 'right thing to do' would be enough to overpower it."

Hermione swallowed loudly as she pushed herself off the couch with renewed vigor.

"I love Harry, the Weasleys, and all the people who have been my friends and family all these years, and it hurts me like you have no idea to have to give them up in order to be with Tom; however, I am in love with him, and no one will ever take his place -"

Hermione broke off as her last word came out a sob, and she covered her mouth to recover her strength.

"Well whatever you tell yourself doesn't change the fact that you betrayed all those who truly care about you," Dumbledore said with a sigh, "and for that you receive no mercy, but unfortunately, it serves Order purposes to keep you out of Azkaban; so listen attentively to what I have to say."

He gestured for her to take her seat once more, but Hermione refused and remained standing.

"I was summoned by Rufus about an hour ago, and he told me about the Dark Lord's capture and offered me a very interesting proposal. You see, he tells me that Bellatrix offered to lure the Dark Lord into the Department of Mysteries if she was granted immunity. Rufus agreed and had his Unspeakables bring out Prometheus Orb at her request. She, in turn, brought one of Tom's Horcruxes: Hufflepuff's cup, which she tortured to summon Voldemort to its rescue. When he came, due to his high magical signature, Prometheus' Orb confused him for a power source and drained him completely."

"Bellatrix?" a stunned Hermione said, "but she worships the very ground he walks on, she always talked about how great he is, and-"

"Hell hath no wrath like a woman scorned,' Congreve said, Dumbledore responded, "and how right he was. But I ask you to not interrupt from now on as I have a lot of information to relay. So as you can imagine, Rufus was going to be faced with a great problem the moment he had to explain to the people exactly how he captured the Dark Lord, and telling them that he let off a psychopathic woman who sadistically murdered hundreds of people for sport, was going to put somewhat of a big stain on the shiny badge of reputation he is trying to establish. So, he called me and offered to revoke Ministerial Decree 22 if we were to take credit for the tip, Rufus and I would come forth and say that the Order and the Ministry had been working together this entire year, and that the Decree was simply put out to alienate us from Rufus and make it easier for us to strike an Alliance with Voldemort."

Dumbledore paused and leaned forward, index fingers pressed together and pointing at the speechless girl facing him.

"And that is where you come in. We will say that you were sent to the Death Eaters as an emissary for the Alliance, but that in reality your mission was to seduce Voldemort and get one of his Horcruxes. No one will doubt that as we have proof in the form of that photo that was taken of you and Voldemort all those months ago, this way not only do we give credibility to our story, but we can clear your name and you will be seen as a hero."

"A hero? That is a filthy, low - !"

Dumbledore raised up his hand and closed his eyes. "Hermione, I will use a silencing charm if I have to. Now, that is my first option. In the second one, the story remains the same except we tell them that you betrayed us and became Voldemort's whore; as a result, we had to send Tonks as emissary and she, against all odds, managed to obtain the cup. Due to recent occurrences I have no doubt, and I'm sure you don't either, that upon my request, Nymphadora will have no trouble at all playing the role so long as your name is dragged through the mud."

Dumbledore gave her a piercing stare from above his half-moon glasses.

"I would gladly go with the second option; however, after much deliberating I have found that the first option has more credibility. So I am extending this greatly undeserved option to you," With a groan, Dumbledore stood up and brushed off the wrinkles from his robes.

"If you accept, Rufus, you and I will give a live televised interview tonight where we explain everything. I expect you to dress nicely for it; I will come by your parents' house to pick you up at 6 pm sharp. If you're not there, I will wait for ten minutes, and if you don't show up within that time frame, I will take that as a rejection of my first proposal and acceptance of the second one. I trust I will see you tonight, Ms. Granger."

Hermione sat rooted to her seat, disbelief and indignation flooding her mind and showing painfully on her face.

"I have to do what is best for my people, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore said curtly, "and I no longer count you as one of them."

* * *

Rufus Scrimgeour had always hated his limp leg.

From the moment he woke up in the hospital and watched in horror as, no matter how much he willed his toes on his leg to move, they remained static. From then, his hatred for it grew as he became convinced that it made him appear weak and handicapped, like a dead weight that dragged him down, which was why he always walked as tall as he could to make up for his Achilles heel.

It pained him too, every day of every month of the past 23 years. There were only two days when his leg had gone without pain: the day he was made Minister, and the day he captured Lord Voldemort.

To all those who passed the Minister as he strode through the Ministry's atrium, he was a rare sight: he had a twinkle in his eye and a lopsided smile on his face, but the most amazing thing of all was the absence of his pronounced limp. It made people wonder if the Minister had found some miraculous cure for his bete noire.

With self-assured steps, Rufus reached his office and headed for the fireplace where he took Floo powder from the mantle and threw it into the merry flames.

Rufus watched them with giddy anticipation, oh the look on Mayer's face when he told him . . . he could already imagine it!

With a collected sigh, Rufus stepped into the flames and willed himself to his destination as he forced his face into his usual stern look: he didn't want to give away anything prematurely.

However, a smile did come onto his face as he was met with a rather incriminating scene: Mayer smiling lewdly and speaking in hushed tones with a sheepish young lady holding out paperwork at his side. No sooner had Rufus stepped out of the fireplace that both the girl and minister looked up in shock, his secretary gasping and stumbling back and out of the office at Mayer's blunt order.

"Not a word!" he yelled after her before turning to look at Scrimgeour with his usual glower. "What are you thinking? How am I suppose to explain a man coming out of my fireplace?"

"Santa Claus," Rufus' offhanded comment was met with a throaty growl of disbelief. "Sit down, I bring good news."

"YOU COULD BRING A BOX FULL OF DIAMONDS FOR ALL I CARE, THAT DOES NOT GIVE YOU THE RIGHT TO MARCH IN HERE -"

"Keep it down my fellow minister," Rufus said as he pulled out his wand. Mayer fell quiet instantly and eyed the stick in Rufus' hand with terror, clearly thinking it was taken out to be employed on his person. However, Rufus' hand traveled behind him and towards the door and around the room as he cast silencing and sound deadening spells. "There, now you can yell at me to your heart's content," Rufus went on with a smile even though the wand twirling in his hands gave the opposite message.

Mayer seemed to have picked up on the veiled threat because he shuffled back to his seat behind his desk and eyed Rufus with quiet disdain.

"As of two hours ago, Lord Voldemort is in Ministry custody."

"Glad to see I motivated you to do your job," Mayer responded bitterly. At Rufus' glare however, he fell quiet once more.

"I would've appreciated a little more thankfulness and humility from you, since now you will no longer have any more 'rogue tornadoes' hitting populated areas of Britain."

"That problem was never mine to begin with," Mayer said though clenched teeth.

"Well, I guess it was unreasonable for me to expect you to tout your horn for anyone other than yourself, politicians are the same everywhere after all."

"I don't tout my horn for arrogant, condescending beings who come asking us, normal folk, to grovel at their feet for solving a problem that they passed onto us to begin with. Now, I ask you to leave because I have work to do."

"Very well, I must go as well, I have a seating with a painter to do my portrait, it will hang at the entrance of the Ministry you see, _my_ people worship me what can I say? There are already proposals to extend my term indefinitely."

"With your attitude, I have no doubt you will end up with 23 stab wounds the morning of your crowning."

Rufus' lips pressed together into a thin line as he eyed the Minister darkly. He needed to get Mayer out of office, maybe he should grant Craine and Hogan more of the Wizarding market in exchange for Mayer's ousting from office?

"Good day, Mayer."

Scrimgeour didn't wait for the muggle to respond and instead turned away as he Disapparated. Unbeknownst to Mayer, he had just signed his resignation from office.

With a shrewd smile on his face, Scrimgeour called his secretary in upon arrival at his office.

"Monica, contact Mr. Craine and Mr. Hogan and tell them I wish to move our meeting up to today at four. Tell them it is of an urgent nature."

* * *

Hermione didn't even say goodbye to her friends at Grimmauld Place before leaving for her parents' house. She didn't think they'd notice anyway, by the sounds coming from the kitchen right before she left, they had gotten thorough quite a number of cases of fire whisky; even if they did ask, Hermione could always say Dumbledore took her away to prepare her for the interview.

"Hermione!"

Jean Granger walked towards her with open arms and a smile on her face which Hermione was only able to return mildly.

"What brings you here? Are you okay?"

For a moment, Hermione considered breaking down and telling her about Tom, she did know about him after all; however, Rose didn't know about his true identity and if Hermione were to share her thoughts, she would have to reveal the latter and at the moment, she was too emotionally fragile to put up with her mother's reaction. So instead, she just smiled with closed lips and nodded.

"Yeah, just tired. I'm going to take a nap."

"Okay, darling . . . are you sure you're alright though?"

Hermione gently brushed her mother's hand off her forehead, a smile on her lips at the motherly gesture.

"I'm fine."

Hermione squeezed her hand and then headed for the stairs to go up to her room.

"Do you want me to bring you anything to eat?"

"No, thank you," Hermione called out, the hardwood floors creaking under the carpet covering them. Once at the top, she headed for her room without a second thought . . . or a first, her mind was blank and her body numb and heavy as she let herself fall back on the covers over her bed.

_It's all over._

Hermione's eyes begun to fill with tears of despair, but also anger.

This was the end of the war, the start of the life she and her friends had always dreamed of having, the day they had fantasized about for over a decade, and here it was today, and yet she felt more miserable than she ever had.

It was a bitter irony, Hermione realized, her hand swiping away at the tears that were making her cheeks burn. That the day she had hoped for for so many years, would now be the cause of her despair.

Even her brain had stopped working, no matter how many times she willed it to come up with a solution to the problem, it seemed to have gotten stuck on the problem like an animal in quick sand: The more it tried to move, the faster it was sucked into the fast moving sands of her current debacle.

Deep down, Hermione knew that this was a problem with no solution: as much as she would like to help Voldemort break out, it would be wrong and selfish of her to do so. How could she live knowing she had put her needs over the rest of the world's? That she had broken out a man who had terrorized the wizarding people for over three decades? Who would kill off Muggles like her parents for sport?

Not only was breaking him out wrong on an ethical ground, but it was also unrealistic. How was she to singlehandedly break into the Department of Mysteries and break out the most wanted man in the history of the Wizarding World out of a specially constructed prison? Not to mention that before she could break said man out, she would have to get his power back, and she was sure that Scrimgeour had made sure to put every protective measure on it he knew of.

A soft knock made her resurface from her thoughts.

"Hermione? Ginny's here."

Ginny?

Hermione swallowed, she wasn't sure she was ready to see anyone, but then again Ginny already knew . . . so she was someone she could talk to.

"Come in."

The door was opened slightly, and Ginny slipped in giving Hermione a shy smile.

"Would you like me to make you girls some tea or hot chocolate with brownies? I made them last night," Jean smiled at her forlorn daughter who nodded.

"Thank you."

Ginny turned and gave Jean one last smile as the latter closed the door; she then turned to look back at Hermione who was still laying on the bed like a lifeless rag doll.

"Hey," she said quietly while sidling up to Hermione's form. "I thought you might want to talk to someone who knows . . . "

The redhead tucked her hair behind her ear and sat down gingerly at the brunette's side, the latter's glassy eyes not even registering the dip in the mattress.

"I can't even imagine what I'd be feeling if that had been Draco . . . ."

"Why do you care?" Hermione rasped out before clearing her throat, "you should hate me, I cheated on Ron and left him for Voldemort. I turned my back against all of you . . . ."

"Well," Ginny wrung her hands together over her lap, "to be honest, I did hate you at first . . ." she laughed nervously, "actually I've pretty much hated you until today."

Her chocolate eyes landed on Hermione, the motherly care in them reminded Hermione of Mrs. Weasley so much, she felt herself choking up again.

"But today, even though you put up a good front, I could tell you were in absolute pain . . . Your lips were smiling, but your eyes were as dead as I have ever seen them," Ginny's hand landed on top of Hermione's, "you truly love him . . . and I know what it's like to be in love with someone whose world is like oil while mine is like water. I know how scary and guilt-ridden it is to think about that day when you'll finally have to choose your new world over your old."

Hermione buried her face to hide her tears; a sob escaping her as she felt Ginny's hand stroking her hair.

"But you know what Hermione, I've been going through this for a lot longer than you have, and I've realized that we are each put on this earth to seek our happiness, and if we are led down that path by love, then it is worth going through the high tides in order to follow it."

"But you can't compare Draco with Him," Hermione croaked, her nose and eyes red, "Draco is a good person at heart who was just led down the wrong path, but Tom . . . Voldemort." Hermione shook her head, "is not a good person. His freedom means enslavement for all those who oppose him, and I . . . I can't be that selfish. It's my fault I fell in love with him, and there is no reason why other people should have to pay for that mistake."

"What will you do then?"

Hermione propped herself off her pillow and swung her legs over the bed to join Ginny in the same seated position.

"Nothing."

"Nothing," she repeated more strongly as she thought of Dumbledore, "I will not help convicting Tom, but I will also not help freeing him."

"I really admire your strength, 'Mione," Ginny said in hushed tones of awe. Both girls turned when the door was opened and Jean entered carrying a tray with brownies and tea.

"I just warmed up the brownies, so you should eat them up right away," she said as she finished setting the tray on Hermione's bedside table and looked up at her haggard daughter. "Everything alright here?"

"Yes," Hermione said briefly, "thank you, mom."

Jean's mouth pursed sideways, clearly displeased at her daughter's reticence; however, she understood that the girl wanted to speak only with her peers at the moment, as was common with her age, and so, before her motherly instincts kicked in and caused her to shake Hermione until she got the truth out of her, Jean excused herself.

"I hear they are going to hold a public trial," Ginny muttered, "Kingsley said it starts on Wednesday; he also said that Scrimgeour is charg -"

_The humming_: it was low, but constant. It started in the back of Hermione's ears as a faint sigh and grew to envelop her head like a banshee's wail.

"Ginny," she gasped out, eyes pressed together, "I don't want to hear."

"Oh right, I'm sorry! It was so stupid of me."

Ginny's hands pulled Hermione's hunched body into a hug and kissed the top of her head. "I'll leave you now, but owl me if you need anything, and I'll make sure to come by tomorrow."

"Take the brownies," Ginny followed Hermione's gesturing hand towards the plate of baked goods. "Fred, George, Harry and . . . the other boys will thank you for them."

"Have at least one." Ginny extended one and held it in Hermione's gaze.

"I'm not hungry."

The chocolate treat was pushed back into Ginny's hand.

"The boys will appreciate them."

Ginny watched with forlorn eyes as Hermione burrowed herself slowly into her bed.

"Please turn the light off when you go."

"Okay." The meekness in Ginny's voice surprised the redhead herself. Hermione's bereavement was so strong, it was contagious: she felt as though she wanted to cry with Hermione, scream with her, wreck the entire room with her or even for her, since the brunette seemed to be in a stupor at the moment. Ginny had seen and consoled many friends through breakups, she'd even witnessed Cho grieving after Cedric's death. They had all cried, cried and wailed like sirens over their so-called lost loves. Hermione, on the other hand, had but spilled a few tears, they were all she could muster for she seemed to have lost all her energy the minute Voldemort's arrest was revealed. In one fall swoop, Hermione Granger had cracked, no longer was she the girl who would approach each problem sure of being able to find a solution for it seemed the mighty bookworm had finally found a wall to high for climbing.

As Ginny switched the lights off and left the room, she realized that she no longer felt like celebrating the Dark Lord's fall.

* * *

"Rufus! We just got off the phone with Mayer, and he told us the good news of the capture. Congratulations!"

Rufus smiled robotically as he entered the room and the two muggle men's attention was turned to him.

"Thank you, George," Scrimgeour said as he and Craine shared a handshake of greeting, he then saluted Hogan before proceeding to his own spot facing both men's armchairs.

"The wizarding world must be inebriated with delight, huh? And you too! You'll go down in the history books, Rufus."

"Thank you, Wilfred," Rufus replied, the bubble of pride in his chest swelling to a dangerously large size, "it is a very exciting time for us."

"Oh and for us, too," the red-faced, bearded man next to Craine uttered as he waved them all back to their seats in the corporate meeting room,"this is a new era for the wizarding world, a new page, a clean slate. A time for innovations!"

"Indeed, it is time for change," Rufus acquiesced while nodding emphatically, "which is why I called this meeting."

"And we hope that by change you are referring to having changed your mind about allowing us a larger stake in the market?"

Rufus smiled. "I have been giving that thought more consideration as of late. . . ."

He trailed off to let the two men infer his intentions.

"But?" Craine responded softly, index finger pensively resting over the fine lines surrounding his lips.

"I am not sure that Minister Mayer's involvement with our dealings is . . . prudent."

"Really?"

"He is extremely belligerent, absolutely impossible to carry on a civilized conversation with and insists on seeing my people and myself as beasts that need to be subjugated. Now, I understand that you are both busy men and that for daily tasks I have to deal with Mayer, but I hope you understand that if the Magical and Muggle worlds are to work more closely together, we need to make sure we are capable of at least a quiescent relationship between all parties involved."

"Hmm . . . Mayer can be difficult at times, his ego is larger than his appetite, I'm afraid," Craine commented at which all three men joined in laughter.

"If we were to get Mayer out, and put someone else in," Hogan began as he siddled forward in his chair so that his forearms rested on his thighs, "how big an upgrade would we get?"

"Three percent."

"That's a small payoff for a lot of maneuvering, don't you think? Ousting a democratically elected Minister without raising eyebrows is a very expensive and complicated endeavor."

"It's more than double what you have now," Rufus went on unfazed, a hard edge to his voice.

Hogan turned to look at Craine who had remained quiet through the exchange, his ring finger tapping his lips methodicallly.

"We will need to do a market study before we agree to anything."

"Naturally," Rufus replied, "let me know when you've reached a decision." He stood up to leave, but halted at George Craine's statement.

"We need y_ou_ to help us with that, Rufus."

Scrimgeour tentatively returned to his seat, his eyes never leaving Craine's cool ones.

"We need to know more information of all Wizard households in Britain before we invest any more money. We need census demographics: age, sex, educational level, income . . ." Craine trailed off as his gesticulating hands came to rest back on his knees.

Meanwhile, Rufus' expression had become guarded, alarm bells going off inside the recesses of his mind.

"Also addresses," Hogan added as he and Craine shared a nod, "so that our companies can do mailings."

"Mailings for what?" Rufus' soft voice hiding his increased wariness.

"Promotions, product advertisement." Hogan's lips broke into a smile at Rufus' stoic expression, mistaking it for ignorance. "You wizards don't do that? Oh! A revolution this will truly be." He turned towards Craine, his round face red from jolliness, "We could advertise this as a virgin market! The first of its kind, imagine the amounts that companies will -"

At Craine's raised hand, Hogan reigned in his excitement and cleared his throat as he resumed his study of the ornate blue carpet under their polished black shoes.

"What you are asking of us," Craine said softly, leaning forward so that Scrimgeour could hear him well, "is a very big thing, Rufus, and you know that. We are willing to give you what you want so long as you go the extra mile for us just like we will for you."

"I wouldn't need to ask you for Mayer's resignation if I weren't trying to maintain our business relationship," Rufus responded icily.

"Our _mutually_ benefitting relationship," Craine interjected. "In addition to the payments we already give you, we will give you 100 shares in each company that invests. That is why -"

Scrimgeour watched as George pulled out a file from his briefcase and opened it showing him the questions they wanted answers to. "We need to know as much information about each wizarding household as possible, because the more we know about the different market segments, the more companies we can advertise to, and the more shares you will get."

"How am I supposed to get answers to all these questions?" Rufus murmured, more to himself than to them.

"A census," Craine replied, "since the war just ended you could say that the census will take place to gain an accurate count of war casualties and the overall cost of the war."

Rufus silently scanned the list of requirements in his hands, he wanted to agree to the deal, but a part of him felt like he was selling his people out to the Muggles. He didn't want his name to be associated with a Muggle takeover . . .he was the one to put the Dark Lord behind bars, he couldn't spot his reputation now!

"I will think about it," Scrimgeour said slowly, hands shutting the folder as he looked up at an indecipherable Craine. "Monica will call your office to schedule an appointment next week."

He stood up. Reluctantly, Craine and then Hogan followed his initiative and they both shook hands with him in goodbye.

"Early next week, Rufus," George said, his hand squeezing Rufus', "we need to know."

"Will do."

Rufus didn't bother walking out of the Muggle's office; instead, he Disapparated on the spot: a cool breeze the only remnant of his flight

* * *

_5:55_

It was as if the clock hanging in front of her mocked her uneasy predicament by moving slower than usual. Hermione swallowed and squeezed her cold hands together as she looked down at the small rug on the floor next to her bed, with her toes, she brushed the soft surface, each swing bringing much needed warmth to her lower extremities. Dumbledore would be there in 5 minutes, and Hermione knew what she would tell him; however, that thought made it no easier a task.

At that, Hermione's right hand landed on the backpack next to her: she had packed all her essentials; even some food she had snuck from the kitchen for she knew that as soon as she told Dumbledore she would not help him, she'd have to flee the hadn't even said good bye to her parents, Hermione realized as she turned her head towards her closed bedroom door. But how could she without telling them her whole situation?

_5:57_

Forlorned, her gaze settled back onto her lap, clammy hands bunching up the fabric of her coat. Her rapid movement caused the diamond ring on her finger to exude a sharp. glimmer against the light overhead, an electrified dagger into Hermione's bleeding heart. At once, she ceased her movements and looked away from her ring: she didn't need to be reminded of what she was giving up for the greater good. Instead, with heavy hands, Hermione went about putting on her boots, she didn't want to stay for more time than she needed to tell Dumbledore what he needed to be told.

"Ms. Granger."

Hermione looked up while giving her boot's ties one last tug to make sure they were securely held.

She watched as the headmaster scrutinized her wear.

"Ms. Granger, I thought you heard me when I asked you to dress nicely." His eyes landed on the backpack over which the girl had laid a protective hand, and his eyes narrowed slightly before coming to look back at her.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," Hermione snapped. She couldn't bear to hear Dumbledore passing judgement on her clothes, only one person in the world was allowed to do that. Not to mention that she hadn't dressed nicely because she wasn't going to be accepting his offer, a fact that Dumbledore seemed to have realized upon spotting the bag next to her.

"Are you sure of your choice?" he muttered.

"Yes, " Hermione hissed, "I am sure of _my_ choice, and that is that I will not help you by giving the interview, and you can tell them whatever you want about me, I don't care for I will not go against Tom." With that Hermione slung her bag over her shoulder and stood up rapidly as she willed herself to Apparate away; however, at her failure to do so, she realized with cold horror that the headmaster had placed Anti-Disapparating wards around the perimeter.

Hermione eyes snapped back onto the headmaster's deceptively kind ones. "I thought you might react this way, love can be so blinding it renders a fool of even the most capable of people. Imperio."

First, a wave of shock hit Hermione at the headmaster's actions, but then came a barrage of slow, rhythmic waves that massaged her worries away. But she didn't want them to go away, and Hermione fought to remember what was going on and the implications of Dumbledore having control over her.

"Change, put on something formal."

Instantly, her legs started moving towards her closet, but with each step they took, their actions because atrophied as her mind fought to regain control over her legs.

"Hermione, stop fighting."

_No, you will not listen to him, no, NO!_

With one defiant stomp, her feet stopped a stone's throw from the closet doors. Instantly, the fog left her mind, and Hermione whipped around in a fury with her wand in hand.

"Stupefy!"

Dumbledore however, swished his hand to his right causing her jet of light to divert its course.

He found that easy? Well then, time to up the ante and make Tom proud.

Swishing her wand in a circle over her head, she cried out. "Duicensus Dolus!" No sooner had she uttered the first syllables that Dumbledore's eyes widened, clearly not expecting an advanced dark curse right after her previous school-aged choice.

Hermione had known she was taking a huge risk in firing this curse because much like a Fyendfire, unless you had a strong enough magical core to manipulate it, it could get out of hand and turn on its caster very quickly. However, she needed a high level curse if she was to successfully duel with Albus Dumbledore.

Steeling herself, a minuscule smile blossomed on her lips as soon as she saw wisps of smoke emitting from her figure and settling around the headmaster, each wisp quickly morphing into a replica of Hermione, their wands aiming at the headmaster.

Dumbledore fired a stunner towards the real Hermione before Disapparating away in a flurry of robes. Instinctively, Hermione turned around and fired her next curse just as the headmaster materialized behind her.

"Relashio!" Hermione and her six clones uttered in unison causing Albus to again whirl away in a flurry of robes; however, far from assuaging Hermione, it only tightened the grip her nerves had over her chest. She knew the headmaster was not gone, he would come back any second and then he would be ready to combat all seven Hermiones.

Hurriedly grabbing her bag, she tried the door once more, but found it was still locked, the anti-disapparation wards were also still in place so that only left . . .

Hermione ran to the window, and with a frantic swipe of her wand, slid it open. Climbing on her desk, Hermione sat down on the window ledge and threw her legs out while reaching for the thick tree branch closest to her, the nostalgic flame of her childhood coming to life.

"Hermione!"

Her mother's panicked voice froze Hermione in the spot, turning her head around to look back at her room, her worst fears were confirmed: Dumbledore was holding her mother at wand point.

"Mrs. Granger, I am sorry it has come to this, but if Hermione doesn't come back in here, I will have to hurt you."

"Hermione, what is going on? What have you done?" her mother yelled, tears streaming down her shaken face.

Cornered, Hermione looked away as her own tears started to fill her eyes: her parents or Tom.

"Dumbledore, let her go, I'm coming in," she called out as she took her right hand off the tree branch and placed it on the windowsill, she hadn't done this in a while, and her fingers shook with unsteadiness as her palms became slippery . . .

"Hermione, climb down and come in through the door. I have placed anti-disapparating and containment wards around your house so you wouldn't have been able to leave anyway."

Cursing inwardly, Hermione began her descent as quickly as she could make it before rushing to her door and opening it with a quick charm. She worried for her mother, she didn't deserve to be embroiled in the problems Hermione had created for herself, and she cursed Dumbledore for having the audacity to bring an innocent, defenseless person into it.

Breathless after having gone up the flight of stairs, Hermione burst into her room.

"Let her -"

Unfortunately, Dumbledore had been waiting for her, wand out and aimed, and as soon as she came into view, a red stunner came her way.

Hermione didn't even have time to take her hand off the doorknob as the curse impacted on her body.

* * *

"Ginny!Ginny you're just in time, Albus and Hermione are giving a live interview."

Instantly, the redhead's freckled hands froze at her coat's buttons which she had been deliberately unbuttoning.

"About what?"

"Well," Molly said hastily, hands on her hips showcasing her disapproval, "if you had stayed for the meeting after Professor Dumbledore came and gave the the news of You-Know-Who's death, you would know," then the stern look on her face morphed into one of joy, "Albus has found a way to clear us all! He's struck a deal with Scrimgeour, they're going to reveal the Alliance and because of that, Scrimgeour has agreed to revoke Decree 22. He couldn't go into details, he said, but that we should watch the interview."

The whole time, Molly's weathered hands grabbed at her apron reflexively, like a nervous tick to contain her budding excitement. Ginny swallowed.

"Oh, wow . . . I wonder why Hermione is going . . . ."

"Probably because she was our emissary," Molly said ushering her from the foyer and towards the sitting room from where voices and popping caps of butterbeer could be heard. "We'll find out soon enough though. Now get in that room!"

"Mom! Call Harry, he still hasn't come down, and they're going to start soon!"

Ron's voice caused Molly to whirl around towards the staircase while huffing in enough air to aliment her upcoming holler.

"Mom," Ginny's hand landed on her fazed mother's forearm, "I'll get him."

"But you're going to miss it!"

"No, I won't. I'll be quick, I have to speak with him anyway. Go."

Ginny gave her mom's arm a gentle shove and without turning back, begun her dizzying ascent up the stairs. Why was Hermione giving an interview with Dumbledore?She had just told her a couple of hours ago she would do nothing to help Dumbledore put the Dark Lord behind bars and why on earth would Scrimgeour want to help them? It made absolutely no sense, she needed to get Harry as quickly as she could and come flying down: she could not afford to miss a second of this interview.

"Harry?"

Ginny was surprised at finding Harry laying on his bed in complete darkness.

"Harry, are you okay?" she asked cautiously while moving up to the bed.

"Yeah."

Harry's croak brought both relief and concern into Ginny's mind.

"What's wrong?"

There was absolutely no reason for Harry to be this melancholy, just hours before he'd been celebrating his mortal enemy's fall.

Harry's silence tightened the vice over Ginny's heart.

"Nothing."

"Harry, you can't say that," Ginny whispered, her dress rustling as she took a seat next to his laying form, "just hours ago you were celebrating Voldemort's fall, and now I hear Dumbledore and Hermione are going to give an interview that is going to repeal Decree 22. So . . ."_ I see no reason for you to be acting like this_, Ginny finished in her mind.

"But at what cost?"

Harry's statement was laden with poisonous feelings, and Ginny felt her face blanching. Her eyes had adjusted to the light now, and she could see Harry's twisted face on his pillow.

"Dumbledore is a manipulative, cold-hearted asshole."

Harry's hidden trap sprung on Ginny's heart rendering it immobile.

Harry's left eye met Ginny's blank ones for the first time that evening, and he grasped her hands as he raised himself off his bed. If Ginny had been in anything other than complete shock, she would've objected to Harry holding her in this way, but his statement was still laying siege on her mind.

"He used Hermione," he said quietly, "he told me what they are going to reveal in the interview. A secret plan that he and Rufus concocted without any of our knowledge, and pulled Hermione into."

"Harry . . ." Ginny's hand brushed away the tears rolling angrily down his cheek, her brow furrowed.

"GINNY, HARRY IT'S STARTING!"

"Ah . . . coming!" Ginny yelled haphazardly as she turned to look back at the boy shaking in anger before her. "Harry, tell me everything, please."

"Dumbledore and Scrimgeour were working together. They agreed to issue Decree 22 so as to alienate us from the Ministry and put us on similar ground with Voldemort, that way Dumbledore could use that as an excuse to ask for an alliance between him and us. Once the Alliance was sealed, Scrimgeour and Dumbledore sent Hermione to . . ." Harry swallowed loudly and shook his head briefly before continuing, "seduce him and get information on his Horcruxes' location."

"What?"

Fortunately for Ginny, her surprise was not feigned. Hermione had purposely been sent to seduce Voldemort by Dumbledore, really?

"Are you sure?"

"He told me himself!" Harry said loudly.

"Harry, Ginny! Get down here right now!"

Feeling out of breath, Ginny grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him towards the door.

"Why did he tell you before everyone else?"

"He and Scrimgeour wanted me to help with the Horcrux they captured, apparently Voldemort had placed a complicated Parseltongue spell on it that was activated when the cup was hit with the Cruciatus. Basically the cup was out of control, breaking through wards they attempted to place to subdue it, making hissing noises… It even broke an Auror's nose when he tried to grab it. Basically, the Horcrux was acting like an enraged snake, and they thought that since I spoke Parseltongue, I could somehow help them."

"What did they ask you to do?" Ginny mumbled.

"Talk to it," Harry said with a smirk, "try to see if that would give them some clue as to how to take the spell off or calm it down."

"Did it?"

"No, of course not," Harry looked up with a derisive snort, "they had to lock it in an empty room; when I left, the cup was bouncing around the walls making hissing and rattling noises whenever someone stood outside the window or tried to come in."

The stairs creaked rhythmically under their footsteps; however, Ginny stopped when the sounds became arrhythmic due to Harry's pause.

"I don't want to go down," he whispered. "Can you imagine how Ron will react?"

Ginny swallowed. Harry did have a point, warily she stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked into the sitting room. She could hear a female reporter speaking.

"I just . .. I can't face him. I feel that I should've told him earlier even though I know no good would've come from it not to mention I couldn't have brought myself to do it."

Harry closed his eyes, a pained look on his twisted visage. "Fucking Dumbledore."

"Harry, just . . ." Ginny's train of words derailed after that.

"Why are you two not coming in?"

Both young adults jumped at Mrs. Weasley's venomous hiss, "the interview started three minutes ago!"

Without waiting for a comment, she grabbed both by the wrist and pulled them into the situation they had both been avoiding.

The room was claustrophobic: all Order members huddled around the meeting table at the end of which was a television set so small, the occupants of the room who were more than a few feet away from it had to squint their eyes and crane their necks.

Molly led them to where Ron and the Weasleys were standing, to the right of the weathered television set.

Ginny shot Harry a glance; however the latter didn't register it because his eyes were downcast, and his jaw tight. Ginny's gaze travelled instead to her brother standing behind Harry and instinctively pulled her sweater closer around herself. As she turned to look at the screen, she sighed and prepared herself for the storm that was sure to come.

"- I devised Operation Lucifer and brought Headmaster and Order of the Phoenix leader, Albus Dumbledore into it," Scrimgeour was saying as he motioned towards Dumbledore who was seated next to him. "The plan consisted of getting He Who Must Not Be Named to agree to an alliance with the Order of the Phoenix; however, to do this we needed to estrange the Order and put them on the same side as Voldemort. That way Albus could appeal to the dark leader for an alliance on the grounds of forming a united front against the Ministry. Once this Alliance was secured, a neutral emissary from each side was sent to live with the opposing side so as to maintain parity and make sure that the rules set up at the signing of the Alliance were upheld."

The camera zoomed out from the Minister's face into a long shot and Ginny was surprised at seeing a dressed up Hermione looking completely calm, even happy.

Before Ginny's curiosity was fed any further, however, the shot was cut and moved onto a close-up of the reporter, none other than Rita Skeeter.

This caused Ginny's eyebrows to rise even further: Hermione acting so nonchalant around Rita Skeeter?

Ginny's lips actually parted in surprise when the camera zoomed out to show the brief exchange of a smile between the two women.

"I assume this is where Ms. Granger comes in?" Rita said before sharing a grin with the TV audience, her hands pulling down her skirt as she turned her body slightly towards the dressed up brunette.

The camera cut to a close-up of Hermione who nodded and whispered 'yes'.

Hermione Granger smiling politely at Rita Skeeter? Twice? Something was definitely wrong. Ginny crossed her legs and leaned forward as she tried to focus on Hermione's eyes and look for the signs of the Imperius curse. However, Hermione's brown eyes did not have the glassy quality that the spell usually caused nor did her limbs exhibit any abruptly robotic movements. It had to be something else, something much more advanced that if Ginny hadn't known the true story of Hermione's relationship with the dark, would've made her believe the mellifluous words spilling from the former's lips in response to Skeeter's question.

"Well Rita, I was the Order emissary sent to live with Lord Voldemort on the pretext of protection for the Alliance's clauses; however, my real mission was to seduce He Who Must Not Be Named and obtain one of his Horcruxes which we could then use against him."

Before Ginny could prepare herself, a blanket of frigidness fell over the room and then the noises erupted.

"What?" her father hissed just as her mother let out a loud gasp.

"That's it!" Tonks suddenly yelled, "See? I knew she was flirting with him during the party! I told you all!"

"Seduce You-Know-Who, what the fuck are they talking about?" Ron's ashen face caused his freckles to stand out like craters on the moon, "You mean my Hermione -!"

"Why would Albus do that?" snapped Lupin, "Hermione's practically a child! How dare he put her in that position!"

Ginny noticed Harrys' eyes flashing approvingly at Remus' statement, but not before all eyes settled on Ron.

"I'm sorry, but are you telling me my fiancee was sent to spread her legs for YOU-KNOW-WHO FOR AN ENTIRE YEAR?" Ron pushed his chair back violently, causing the other Order members to look alarmed. "AND THEN SHE BROKE UP WITH ME? SO, SHE LEFT ME FOR YOU KNOW WHO, THAT'S -"

"Weasley! We are all trying to hear, if you were to sit down and listen it would be better than coming to conclusions that will most likely be wrong anyway!" Moody snapped, his eyes roaming angrily around those who had spoken up.

"Are you not listening? MY FUTURE WIFE -!"

"Yah! I'm listening," Moody gruffed loudly, "but you know why she did it? To win this war! In war there's sacrifice; so stop acting like a snot-nosed brat and take it like a man."

Ron was gaping like a fish out of water, his face redder than his hair and his fists combined.

"Ron, Hermione would not leave you for Voldemort, that's ridiculous. Dumbledore talked her into it, he must've put the weight of the entire war on her shoulders, and you know how selfless Hermione is, she probably felt like she'd be betraying us by not doing it." Ginny bit her lip and looked away as Harry continued to reassure her brother.

"I'm sure her break up was just a part of the plan," Harry said insistently. "Let's try and listen, we will all talk to Dumbledore and Hermione after."

Ron stalled, his bulging eyes fixed on the screen.

"Ms. Granger," Rita was saying, "I just have to say you really have surprised me, it seems you finally put your philandering ways to good use, it must've been so awkward for your fiance though."

"You think, Rita?" Ron called out, sarcasm dripping off his elevated voice, "not that her fiance was even important enough to have his opinion asked in the first place!"

A wave of shushing crashed against a seething Ron as all sharpened their ears to hear Hermione's response to Rita's inquiry regarding the break up of her engagement.

"Ms. Skeeter, The rupture of my engagement was fake, it was done so as to assure You-Know-Who of my love for him, an action which," Hermione ducked her head and blinked rapidly before looking back up, "as painful as it was, ultimately yielded the fruit this operation was seeking to pick. Having said that I look forward to sitting down with Ron and explaining everything to him, and I hope that he can forgive me and we can go through with our engagement."

Back at the Order headquarters, the rooms' occupants let out approving murmurs and nods.

"See, Ron?" Harry said insistently, a smile on his face. Ron's rouging cheeks were slowly becoming more subdued; however, he still held his jaw tightly. "Hermione's a hero, she sacrificed herself for all of us."

"I know, but it's just weird, mate, it's just . . . fucked up. I don't . . . I need time. I mean she could've told me!"

"But then you would've stopped her and Voldemort would still be at large and our lives would continue to revolve around killing him. Now, we can finally begin to build lives of our own," Harry said reassuringly. Ginny watched him guardedly, it amazed her how Harry had put aside his anger towards Dumbledore in order to act supportive and get Ron to accept Hermione. He was such a good friend, Ginny mused, and it was excruciating for her to see him laboring under false pretenses.

To see them all deceived, in that case.

Ginny bit her lip as she saw her father wiping tears from the corner of his eyes, and even her mother was looking ashamed at her recent treatment of her daughter-in-law. Tonks, too, was holding back tears as she spoke with Remus, his hands wrapped reassuringly around hers.

"That's lovely, Hermione," Rita Skeeter was saying, true warmth in her voice, "I cannot even imagine how daunting your task must've been, to have to pretend to love such a monster."

Hermione gave a series of slow nods, her face solemn. "It was," she said softly, "but I kept thinking about the end result, and how my suffering would bring happiness to an entire world of people who had lived in terror for far too long."

Rita smiled warmly and actually stood up and hugged Hermione whole-heartedly. The latter smiled sheepishly and wiped away a few tears that had slipped through her tightly pressed lids. The room's occupants, all stared at the screen in awe, regret and gratefulness tinging the air.

Only Ginny's feelings seemed to be at odds with those of the rest of the room's occupants: she was now, more than ever, sure that this was not Hermione of her own free will. The headgirl would've never been able to pull off such hypocritical statements with such finesse.

"Ms. Granger was truly brave, and the Ministry is working on commending her and giving her the keys to the city. However, for now, we really ought to finish telling the development of the plan."

Hermione nodded emphatically. "Yes, please, Minister."

"So, Ms. Granger, after having finally obtained Voldemort's horcrux, brought it to the Department of Mysteries where I had assembled a large group of Aurors and Unspeakables, and of course, Prometheus' Orb, which Albus theorized would mistake He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for a power source due to his high magical aura -"

"I'm sorry, Minister, for interrupting, but just like with the concept of a 'Horcrux' I am sure my viewers would appreciate a description of this 'Prometheus' Orb'."

"Naturally." Rufus clasped his hands good-naturedly. "The Orb consists of a single, pure crystal from Ethiopia. It is the largest crystal ever found and the purest. Crystals as you know are capable of attracting and holding unlimited amounts of magic; so this crystal, from its acquisition, was imbued with raw magic from a generator so that in case of a magical power outage at the Ministry, we could get everything up and running through this crystal. Incidentally, that is also why we named it Prometheus' Orb, since Prometheus gave fire to humans, but I digress," Rufus cleared his throat and took a drink of water before continuing, "so the reason we decided to use it against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was because Albus theorized that due to his high magical aura, the Orb would confound him for a generator and drain him of his power."

"And it worked." Rita's smiled showcased her bone white teeth.

"Ms. Rita, it sure did." Rufus smile nearly matched that of the blonde hostess, and it was quite a sight to behold.

"So where is he being kept now?"

"That, as you can imagine, is a highly classified piece of information since most of his devoted followers have yet to be rounded up; so we don't want to encourage any rescue missions. However, I will say that he is being kept in an especially constructed location. One which is heavily guarded and makes Azkaban seem like a juvenile detention hall."

They all shared a hearty laugh, and once more Ginny was speechless at seeing Hermione laughing along with the rest.

"We should have a party," Molly spoke up, "for Hermione. It's the least we could do after we all . . . at some point thought less of her."

There was a growing murmur of positive responses.

"I'll get the beer," Fred said, standing up from his seat followed by George.

"I'll get the party favors," the latter said, with a grin to match his twin's.

"Ginny, come help me cook," Molly said beckoning her daughter towards the kitchen, Ginny threw one last glance at the screen and then followed her mother's call all too eagerly. She couldn't stand to be a part of this charade any longer. On her way towards the kitchen, she passed by Ron and Harry who were huddled speaking in hushed voices.

"Ron, are you okay?" Ginny asked while letting the pain of her debacle shine through her eyes.

Her brother shrugged, head hung low.

Harry shared a brief look with Ginny and then placed his hand on Ron's back.

"Let's go get a drink, Ron, what do you say?"

"Fine," the latter murmured and without further ado, pushed past Ginny and towards the exit followed by Harry who threw Ginny a reassuring look.

"Ginny!"

"Coming!"

Ginny turned rapidly, her face twisting at her upcoming headache. Harry . . . poor Harry, if only he knew it wasn't just Hermione betraying him . . . .

* * *

"So, Ms. Granger, I trust I will see you at the trial on Wednesday?"

Rufus, Hermione and Dumbledore entered the studio waiting room as the security guards outside slammed the door shut on the multitude of photographers with their bright snapshots.

"Yes, of course," Hermione replied smoothly as the Minister handed her and Dumbledore a glass of champagne.

"Good, good . . .when you were with him, Hermione, did you witness any killings or torturing of prisoners?"

"Yes," Hermione replied softly as she shared a look with Dumbledore who smiled at her reassuringly,"I did."

"Would you be willing to stand as witness tomorrow? Tell the jury about a particularly gruesome execution you witnessed?"

"I . . .I would rather not, Minister, I'm sorry it's just that as you can imagine I am still coming to terms with the things that I saw, and I don't feel ready."

Dumbledore placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder before addressing Scrimgeour.

"I have to agree with Ms. Granger, putting her on the spot so soon would be detrimental for her mental health, and she has already sacrificed so much for us that it would be unreasonable to demand more from her."

Scrimgeour nodded rapidly. "I understand, but Ms. Granger, please think about it, the faster we can get him convicted, the sooner he'll be dead, and we will all be able to truly move on."

"Yes, I definitely will."

With that, Rufus took a short bow and stepped back as he prepared to Disapparate.

"I hope to be speaking with you soon, then."

"Have a good night, Minister," Hermione replied with a small smile.

Once said Minister was gone, Dumbledore turned towards the dressed up young lady next to him.

"Drink this," he said giving her a flask which she took with no protest.

Albus took the flask back as soon as she was done with it and made it disappear with a wave of his hand, slowly he walked over to one of the armchairs and waited for the counterpotion to take effect.

Hermione was turned away from him, and he watched with fascination as her shoulders shrugged for a few seconds before tensing back up. Her yowl bulged, and she whirled around in the next instant.

"What did you do to me?"

"A modified Imperius, it allows you to remain conscious throughout the event; thus, preventing the usual telltale signs of the normal Imperius. I'm surprised you don't know about it . . . It was your beloved's creation."

"How - How?" Words failed her, in her anger and despair, Hermione had been reduced to mouthing senselessly.

"How what, Hermione? Like I told you before, you are not one of my people anymore, and I have to do what is best for them. After this, we will go to Grimmauld Place as I assume your ex-fiance will be more than anxious to speak with you after the interview."

Hermione closed her eyes and clasped her face with her hands.

"You had no right, no fucking right . . . I didn't want to be involved with this! I do not want to help convict Tom, but I also don't want to break him out, I wanted to remain neutral! This is painful enough as it is without being thrust right into the middle of it!" Hermione hollered.

"Hermione, let me remind you of the concession I made just a few minutes ago," Dumbledore said as he walked over to her, "Rufus asked you to testify, but I had you say 'no' because I knew how painful that would be for you. I am not heartless, Ms. Granger, I don't want to put you through more heartbreak than you are already going through. However, if you don't cooperate, I can always tell Rufus you changed your mind."

"Oh, so first you tell me you did it for my wellbeing and then blackmail me with it?" Hermione replied angrily, "Yes, I now definitely believe you had my best interest at heart when you declined Scrimgeour's offer."

"What you believe is of no consequence to me," the headmaster replied, waving her off with his crooked fingered hand. "Just be ready for tonight."

Hermione shook her head as tears once more overwhelmed her. With a sob, she sat down on the couch and buried her face in her hands.

She felt so alone, it was painful . . .

"I want to see him," she choked out.

"I don't think that's wise."

"I don't care! I miss him and I . . ." Another sob racked her body as she bent forward so she her chest was laying on her thighs.

With an inaudible sigh, Dumbledore raised his wand and prepared to cast the spell on her again.

* * *

"Minister Scrimgeour, Mr. Gouthieau du Poitier and Ms. Gagnon are in your waiting room."

Rufus gave a slight inclination to Monica, letting her know to let the visitors into his office.

He basked silently in his leather seat before looking up at the door at hearing the handle being twisted.

"Minister Scrimgeour, good evening."

Extending his hand, Rufus motioned towards the two chairs facing his desk. "Take a seat."

He waited until the Frenchmen were seated comfortably before continuing.

"As you may have heard, Lord Voldemort's trial begins on Wednesday."

"Yes," the French minister replied, "quite the event that will be."

"You will be in attendance, naturally," Rufus commented conversationally.

"Why naturally?" Guillaume asked, blue eyes icy.

Rufus shrugged, a smirk on his lips.

"Well for you in particular, Guillaume, to say goodbye to your friend." As he said this, he threw a file in front of the Frenchman whose teeth clenched at reading the documents and seeing the photos.

"We know he is Tom Riddle, graduated Oxvard Summa Cum Laude and was the editor-in-chief of the Law Review in which his sidekick, Guillaume Gothieau Du Poitier held the position of senior managing editor, a position which according to all who knew the two of you was granted to you by Tom. Look at that . . . " He tapped a particular picture showing a young Tom and Guillaume smiling while dressed in impeccable suits. "Such good friends, the two of you."

Elizabeth had her gaze fixed on the photos, her face guarded.

"And you Minister Gagnon," Rufus said with a smile, "I know that you pulled your aid from me after your meeting with the Dark Lord."

"You have no proof," Elizabeth said icily.

"Not enough," Rufus acquiesced, "but once I expose Gothieau's close relationship with him, the country will not doubt your cabinet's ties with Lord Voldemort. Add to that my witness . . .and you two will be sharing the accused stand with Him."

"What do you want?" Guillaume interjected

"You will testify against him. Both of you."

"And say?"

"That you met with him under duress; that he threatened you personally and also with terror attacks on France."

"We will be taking the photos and documents though," Guillaume said, his hand tightening on the file at hand.

"You can take those to remember the good times, Gothieau, I have many copies."

Rufus smiled snidely at them.

"How will you ensure that the press won't find out about Guillaume's ties with the Dark Lord?" Elizabeth asked.

"I have with me all incriminating documents. After you testify on Wednesday, I will burn them with you present."

"We will be wanting an unbreakable vow prior to the testimony," Guillaume responded.

"Naturally, you can come by my office at nine am. The Trial begins at 11."

Guillaume and Elizabeth stood up. "We will see you on Wednesday then."

"Good night."


	19. Chapter 19

**First off, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Nerys for two things: **

**1. Helping me out in finding a quote for this chapter (Dumbledore's on Tom and Voldemort) after I turned my apartment and the internet inside out looking for it. Thanks!**

**2. Her excellently researched and poignant reply to a reviewer who claimed my belief of psychopaths v. sociopaths was wrong and theirs right when in reality, neither they nor I is right or wrong, we are just on two opposite sides of the fence regarding this great and battled controversy. **

**As always I'd like thank my patient and diligent reviewers:** Axblack, lella7, weskerism1, ebonyeyez1, Incredibly Anonymous, Chamilia Lutien Tinuviel, A. Deca, Dramione-Fan 17, Nerys, Sabine Eileen Snape, Impstar, Britleigh, BookishBrains, alannalove1990, gsalilsecret, Inkfire, Lk- Hogwarts- headgirl, Doctor Fang, Sailor2Moon, BeNeRre, Armanifan101, Dream a Dream 123, David Boreanaz's wife, AliBelly, Aringle42, emm, Shan84, hateme101.

VERY excited about this chapter, I have to say, my favorite yet. Came out radically different from what I had envisioned and was extremely laborious, but it turned out quite well I think. Can't wait to hear what everyone thinks, especially of **Voldemort's** **strategy**!

Also, this story will now have more than the** two chapters** that were supposedly left, as I said previously, Voldemort's plan has changed things and the story will now require more than two chapters to settle. So rejoice!

* * *

Hermione had refused Dumbledore's offer to put her under the Modified Imperius curse for the trial. He had already placed her under it for the interview, and then the party she was forced to attend at Grimmauld Place. Hermione's stomach churned as she remembered how easily the lies had rushed from her lips. From her mental prison, Hermione had receded into a corner, unable to bear the spectacle she was being forced to put on.

She and Ron were re-engaged.

When Dumbledore had initiated that conversation, Hermione had fought tooth and nail to take back control over the ship, and she had come close to it, but not before Ron filled in the blanks for her and, with Harry's and everyone else's encouragement, asked her to get re-engaged.

Once the affirmative command broke through her lips, Hermione had stopped fighting.

The party had raged on after that with increased enthusiasm and happiness. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione could see Ginny watching her with questioning eyes. It was quite obvious that the redhead wasn't buying anything her body was saying, and Hermione was only too glad for that. It had been nice to know there was still someone she could be open with.

Hermione had zoned out for the rest of the affair until it finally ended, and she felt Ron's arm snaking through her own as they said their goodbyes and went back to his, now once more their, apartment. It was as they exited, that she felt Dumbledore's counter-curse spreading through her body and with a loud internal screech, she was ousted from the armchair she'd taken refuge in and thrown back at the steering wheel of a ship on course for disaster.

The night had been awkward to say the least.

Hermione had purposely gone to bed curled in a fetal position staring out the window, her back to Ron's side. She hoped that he would take the hint or that maybe he would still feel awkward about the whole affair. However, as soon as Ron came between the sheets, his left arm wrapped around her waist as his right moved the hair off her neck to make way for his eager lips.

Hermione had buried her face into her pillow and closed her fist in a silent plea. She wanted him to stop, this was the last thing she needed. However, she knew that it would be strange for her to alienate Ron now when just minutes before she'd professed her love for him.

When his hand had slipped through her gown and started caressing her body, Hermione had closed her eyes and cursed Dumbledore to his last ancestor. How dare he go around professing for the greater good and vilifying Voldemort fully knowing that he himself was capable of cruelty to those he considered enemies? At least Voldemort didn't mask his ideals and actions behind a curtain of civility . . . .No, Dumbledore had definitely turned out to be worse than Him and the irony was that now, more than ever, he was deified by those around him.

Even the Order.

Hermione had expected them to object to his usage of her, to lower their high conception of him down to, at least, a realistic level. However, Dumbledore had soothed the raging waters by saying that he had hated what she had had to go through, but that when fighting supreme evil, sacrifices were necessary. So rather than looking back at the blood splattered past, we should look to our bright future, a future made possible by the selfless altruism displayed in Hermione's actions.

With that he won over practically everyone, only Harry and Ginny seemed at odds. Ginny from disbelief and covert anger as she seemed to have realized that Dumbledore was setting Hermione up. Harry, on the other hand, seemed to be angry that Dumbledore had brought Hermione into the eye of the cyclone: it seemed to break his heart that anyone other than himself should've had to bear the burden that birth bestowed upon him.

It was when Ron had magically undressed her and tried to climb on top, that Hermione finally resisted more out of reflex than actual logic. When Ron had asked her why, she had been at a loss of words. Then, her stomach had started churning, her hands trembling, and an overwhelming sensation in her stomach caused her to bend over the side of the bed and vomit her day's sorrows.

No further explanation had been needed as Hermione muttered about a stomach bug while waving her wand at the mess on the carpet.

Ron, disgusted but understanding, had said no more and gone to sleep quietly. Hermione had stayed up though, silent tears pooling in her eyes as she realized her debacle had become more complicated than she had ever though it would.

"They're already ten minutes late," Ron muttered bringing Hermione from her thoughts. Hermione glanced at him while he motioned towards the large clock behind the judges' table.

The courtroom had been modified immensely for this trial, Hermione observed, it was now about ten times larger than it had been before in order to accommodate the newly formed international war committee. Compromised of three Muggle and three Wizarding judges, the Tribune, as it was also known, would lead the proceedings from their elevated table at the far right of the room. Due to their involvement with the war, Hermione, Harry and Ron had been allowed in the newly established VIP gallery right in front of the press box from where they could watch all the court proceedings. To their left, was the defendants' booth and in the middle, the defense counsel table and that of the prosecutors' finished the court decorations.

As Hermione looked around, she spotted a few familiar faces in the VIP crowd including Scrimgeour with Umbridge in the first row, the two leaning towards each other as they shared shushed comments. Dumbledore was at his left with Slughorn and Elphias Doge; all three looked from the clock to the still empty defendants' box.

"They're never late," Ron went on while turning to Harry whose jaw was held tightly.

"I know, I hope everything's okay."

Hermione hoped that everything was indeed okay, okay in that Tom had somehow broken out. That he was at home now reading Pomfrey's 'Dark Arts: their Ultimate Mysteries Dispelled', fingers intertwined around the handle of a porcelain cup filled with steaming Assam tea half and inch below the brim.

_No_ Hermione thought as she narrowed her eyes, _he wouldn't read Pomfrey because he wouldn't agree with his assertion that the Strophalos of Hecate is a vehicle for rebirth and rejuvenation. No he would probably be reading . . ._

Hermione's fantasy was cut short when the doors behind the defendants' box opened and an echelon of men flanked on all sides by aurors entered. Instantly, the chatter and the hissing erupted in the room as Rodolphus Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, Dolohov, Fenrir, Mulciber, Rowle and Tom entered: all suited in black except for Tom who wore a white oxford with black pants.

"Oh," Hermione gasped. _How could that - ?_ Her surprise was dispelled almost immediately as she remembered that the snake face had been a magical facade Voldemort created; so of course once all his power was drained, he would go back to being himself.

Once she had rationalized his unexpected appearance, Hermione's throat constricted as her eyes landed on him for the first time since before his capture and the full meaning of his current predicament struck her.

She hadn't known that the other Death Eaters had been caught, no one had known. It was a surprise that Scrimgeour was now basting in as he turned and smiled at the people behind him who had started to clap approvingly.

Her stomach further turned when she heard Ron and Harry begin to cheer and whoop. Closing her eyes briefly, Hermione forced a tight-lip smile on her face as her palms grudgingly came together a few times.

Upon the dying of the noise surrounding her, Hermione brought her hands to her knees almost immediately and opened her eyes only to find them locked with her condemned fiance's. Hermione's lips parted as her breath cut off: guilt and sorrow flooding into her system as she recalled her stance to not help him. That had been easier to say with him out of sight, but with his dark brooding eyes and beautifully sculpted face turned to her attention, Hermione found the urge to break him out increased exponentially. Her heart ached as it fluttered rapidly, almost like a bird running over a meadow to gain momentum before throwing themselves up through the air. She would fly out her box and into his below, landing at his feet and crawling onto his lap, wrapping herself around him and inviting everyone in that room to tear her to shreds before brushing a spell over his porcelain face.

Such was his hold over her.

Suddenly, Ron's hand was on hers causing Hermione to jump and turn to look at the latter.

"It's okay, Herm, he'll never harm you again."

Hermione ignored his reassuring smile and whipped back to look at Tom as she slipped her hand out from Ron's in an instinctively desperate gesture.

Tom was still gazing at her, but as soon as she caught up with him to continue relishing their small, previously interrupted, moment, his long-lashed eyes spelled his displeasure and with a smirk and a slight shaking of his head, turned away from her.

Hermione parted her lips as if to cry out, but held herself just in time as Ginny squeezed her left hand in warning. Hermione grasped the redhead's hand and pulled it between their outer thighs as she channeled all her tension and heartbreak into their held hands. Did Tom know of the interview she gave? He'd probably heard of it, but he wouldn't have believed that Hermione tricked him, she knew that, he was too intelligent for that not to mention he had looked into her mind countless times when they lived together.

_He never doubted your loyalty to him though, so he probably never went in seeking that information._

_No_. Hermione squeezed Ginny's hand with increased vigor as her throat began to burn and her vision became blurry. _No, he would not believe all the trash Dumbledore made me spill . . . that look he got when Ron held my hand though, that look of betrayal confirmed . . . . It was not - it could not -_

Hermione gasped.

"Hermione, come on," Ginny muttered as she pulled her up and whispered briefly to Harry about going to the bathroom. Hermione vaguely registered the people around her gazing at her with worry and pity etched in their faces, none with contempt thankfully. They probably thought she was having flashbacks of her horrible ordeal now that she was brought face to face with Voldemort.

It only helped her, Hermione reasoned as she allowed her tears to fall and the rest of the corridor became a big blur of color.

Once they arrived at the restrooms, Ginny let go of Hermione's hand and went towards the stall doors which she pushed in to make sure they were all empty. Once every silver metal door hung aloof, Ginny cast a locking charm on the bathroom door and advanced on Hermione who by now was huddled on the linoleum floor, back hunched against the bathroom wall.

"Hermione . . .you can't be like this," Ginny whispered as she bent down towards the brunette and squeezed her icy hand. "The less attention you draw to yourself, the better."

"I think he believes what Dumbledore made me say," Hermione muttered, her tears cracking her voice, "just the way he looked at me, especially when Ron grabbed my hand -"

A fresh sob disallowed her from continuing.

"I knew it was a lie!" Ginny let out, voice full of riddance. "I knew you would never be that manipulative."

Hermione looked up, face stricken. "A part of you actually believed I could have such guile?"

She heard the redhead stammer a few times before sighing in defeat as she seemed to realize that there was little she could say to assuage Hermione's fears. "Well, no! But you know . . . in the back of your mind, there is always that little doubt, but it was _very_ little, almost nonexistent. I'm sorry! I know you're not like that, but I also never imagined Dumbledore could be capable of such a thing!"

Hermione sniffed bitterly. "Well now you know that when it comes to duplicity, Dumbledore outdoes even Voldemort himself."

_Now we know._

"You should've taken a calming draught . . . " Ginny's meek voice brought Hermione away from her disparaging thoughts and back into her current despondent reality.

"I thought I could endure it," Hermione muttered, "but I am so . . . weak around him! Just seeing him was like-" Hermione bit her lip and closed her eyes as her head shook in slow, pained strokes, "like -"

Then, the modicum of reason that remained in Hermione's stressed state stopped her. She knew what she wanted to say, that she had rethought her assertion of not helping Voldemort, but she didn't feel like it should be something she should share with Ginny. Sure the redhead would have a vested interest in the Dark Lord breaking out as that would ensure Draco's survival, but there was always the chance of her divulging something by accident or . . . _even malice_. That thought was obviously a product of Voldemort's influence, but Hermione knew that in this delicate case she needed to be very careful.

_Besides, a part of Ginny, no matter how small, had actually believed me capable of the ruse Dumbledore had forced me into._

Now more than ever she agreed with Tom: the less people knew, the less they could use against you.

As for people who could be trusted . . . Hermione was still on the fence about that. After all, people who she had never expected to betray her had done so effortlessly; so while she was still not hopping the fence into Voldemort's camp of distrust and cynicism, she was definitely not going back to her old camp either.

"I don't know how I'm going to make it through the trial," Hermione uttered as she sought to steer the ship away from more turbulent waters.

"I should've brought a calming draught," Ginny whined, "I'm sorry, Hermione!"

"It's okay," Hermione said with a weak smile, "Ginny, you have just as much to deal with as me . . .there is no reason why you should be expected to care for me. How's Draco, by the way? I didn't know Lucius got caught."

"Neither did I," Ginny started, "after the Dark Lord fell, Draco fled the country. I thought he left with his parents . . . he wrote me a letter before he left to tell me he was leaving, and that when he found a more permanent and safe place to live, he would let me know so I could come . . . ."

"Are you gonna go?" Hermione asked soberly.

Ginny shrugged, eyes filling with tears. "I don't know . . . I love him, but I don't know if I want to live my life as a fugitive. I don't know if I want to leave my family behind without any reasons or notifications. I just . . . don't know, it's a difficult situation. But at least I know he's alive," Ginny let out with a small smile that contradicted the rapidly welling tears in her brown eyes.

Hermione bit her lip and looked down as this last utterance brought her fiancé into her mind once more.

"Oh Hermione, I didn't mean that in a mean way, it came out wrong!" Ginny said rapidly.

Hermione looked up at her with a smile. "It wasn't taken that way, so don't worry. I'll be fine, just . . . stay next to me."

Ginny took Hermione's hand and squeezed it as both girls' eyes met with glistening tears.

"We're on the same boat, Hermione, we're in this together, and we'll stay with each other until the end no matter how that comes about."

Hermione's face scrunched up at this, her heart twisting as for the first time in more than a year, she felt truly and altruistically loved and supported. With a sob and a hug, both girls came together on the dingy, bathroom floor of a public courtroom.

* * *

To say that Lord Voldemort was outraged by his treatment at the hands of the Ministry officials was a dangerous understatement. First, he had been given a cell with a paper thin twin mattress! If anything, he would've thought the darkest wizard since Grindelwald would deserve a queen!

No! What was he talking about? Comparing himself to lowly Grindelwald? Dumbledore's preferred ass? No! He had achieved so much more than that "dark" lord, advanced the science of magic and made discoveries even the worthless homosexual's boyfriend couldn't fathom! No, he was in a category all his own which was why he was especially peeved when he realized he would be tried along with his followers.

It was a slap in the face, that's what it was.

Reducing him to his servants' level, one in a bunch, a mere defendant amongst others! Why they had even dressed them all the same. Of course, Lord Voldemort would not put up with such an affront, and so under the pretext of being hot, he had refused to wear the suit's coat and stayed in the thin oxford shirt alone.

He was freezing of course, but he'd rather turn into a popsicle in the marble stone courtroom; than become the fifth black suit in the defendants' box.

The judges were filing in now, he observed coolly, all old and gnarled up tree roots bursting under the sidewalk. They were all a foot from death's doorstep! Who were they to try him? Him who had gone further than anyone else to avoid death! The only person since Orpheus to challenge her! He just knew Scrimgeour had also done this on purpose: that man knew what would make him tick for some reason which Voldemort knew he would investigate as soon as he broke out.

They were being asked to rise now by one of the judge's lackeys. Well, that was fine for them, he thought defiantly as he crossed his arms over his chest and sunk further down in his chair. Not him though, those judges should be rising for Him! Imagine the honor that was bestowed upon those old bags of bones that already had one foot in their coffins. After trying him, no, just being in the same room as him! They could happily make the final leap into their coffins!

He would not give them that honor.

With a huff and a raised eyebrow, he jutted his chin out in response to their order.

He saw the guards approaching him, but he didn't care. He would never succumb to fear through brute force! He wasn't called the brightest student to have graduated Hogwarts for nothing! Salazar Slytherin's sole heir! No, not he who had lived with the Naga tribe in Dharamsala ! Who had -

He felt himself being pulled up roughly by men who clamped down on both of his upper arms. As soon as they let him go however, he plopped back down in his seat defiantly and gave them a disparaging look.

"Well, aren't you two eager to lay your hands on me . . . at least you got it out of your system now. You can thank me later for indulging you."

What dirty looks he received! Why one of the guards had even made to come near him with tight fists, and if it hadn't been for the judge calling 'order', he would've actually advanced on him! The Dark Lord scolded himself silently . . . _give them an inch, and they'll take a mile_ . . . his own folly.

How were his children to learn to respect him if he made such generous concessions? He wondered aloud.

The courtroom was completely silent after that, why even the judge had stopped speaking! How stupid of him, when had his thoughts become voiced statements? It had completely slipped past him! Ah, now they would know he was capable of follies! No wonder he was here, no wonder they didn't respect him!

Now Lucius was talking, Tom turned to him with a sniff. The blond was talking about him to the judge . . . .

_He's been like this since he was moved into our cell this morning, we don't know what's wrong._

It took all his self-restraint to not snort at that statement, well of course he had been outraged! He had woken up in a cell shared with his four servants. What was more insulting that that? A general didn't share his bed with his soldiers!

So he told him that.

_My lord, you are unwell -_

How dare he! As soon as they were done with this bothersome ordeal, Malfoy would be the recipient of an organ twisting curse to last for 16 seconds! That on top of the five 15 second Cruciatus curses he had accrued earlier this morning! Rodolphus, are you keeping track of Lucius' punishments?

Why, the man wasn't even writing these down! Blasphemy!

Dolohov! Rodolphus is to be used for the new recruits to practice their curses on!

What was that look? Confusion and _pity_?

He lunged on Dolohov.

* * *

Whatever apprehension and reluctance Hermione was experiencing flew out the door the moment she and Ginny came within the vicinity of the closed courtroom door only to hear what sounded like a scuffle inside followed by the loud hammering of a mallet on a table.

A balloon of perfidious hope rising in her chest, Hermione broke from Ginny and threw the door open. Her heels clattering as she cut through the volatile crowd of reporters who had crowded around the seating area in an attempt to get closer to the defendants' box. Pushing and elbowing her way through, Hermione made it close enough that she caught a glimpse of Tom being restrained by two guards while Dolohov, who was laying on the ground with a bloodied nose, was looked over by a healer who was bent over him.

Before she could get a better look, Hermione felt herself being pushed back and constricted by the crowd as the guards sought to forcefully push the media crowds back into their space. Feeling terrified at being trampled, Hermione exclaimed Harry's name as she caught sight of him.

"Harry!"

Instantly, Harry's eyes widened, and he started yelling at the guard closest to where she was to allow her through, said guard pushed his way through the crowd of photographers and rabid reporters; once within reach, he grabbed her hand and pulled her roughly through, his hand clutching her willowy wrist with formidable force.

"What happened?" Hermione hissed as Ron and Harry pulled her into her seat.

"Short story: Voldemort hit Dolohov and needs to go see a shrink."

"What? Why?" Hermione gasped.

"Where's Ginny?" Ron asked suddenly as he looked around at the crowd through which his sister was still laboring to cut through, "oh there she is . . . let me go help her."

But Hermione was not paying attention. Her eyes were on the phlegmatic Dark Lord who was being forcefully led out of the courtroom by four guards while the remaining ones continued restoring order in the courtroom.

"Who is Defendant Riddle's defense counsel?" the main judge asked the people facing him who were sitting at the defense counsel tables.

"I am, your honor," responded a gray-suited man while standing, "Samuelson Skerrick."

"Mr. Skerrick, did you meet with your defendant this morning as was asked of you?"

"Your honor, I did; however, Defendant Riddle gave no indications of mental instability beyond that which was already known he possessed."

"This Tribunal will retire in order to decide a course of action for Defendant Riddle's trial: as of now, the proceedings against said defendant are suspended until his mental fitness is verified. I ask the latter's defense counsel, Mr. Skerrick, to accompany us in our quarters. Defendants will return to their cells and wait until this Tribunal resumes its proceedings."

With that, the presiding judge with the German accent pushed his chair back along with the other judges as they all rose; however, as soon as that happened, the people behind and around Hermione begun to rise and yell profanities at the judges. The reporters once more went into a frenzy of photographing and questioning as chairs, pens and notepads begun to rain over the courtroom. Instantly, the judges were escorted out of the room by some guards while another group surrounded the remaining defendants and escorted them out hurriedly through the door behind their box. The rest of the guards remained in the room restraining the crowd.

Heart palpitating, Hermione looked at Ron and Harry who seemed at a loss of how to escape the rabid mob surrounding them.

Then, Harry got a stoic glint in his eyes and his jaw tightened. Hermione felt him grabbing her by the waist and Ron by the forearm.

"Come on, we're going to push through."

Steeling herself, Hermione summoned all the strength in her body in order to resist the blood-thirsty crowd which had erupted in punches and violence between themselves and the mob of guards. Hermione screamed as a person who tripped, stumbled back into her causing her to fall on the ground only to be yanked up by Harry who wrapped a protective arm around her. Hermione was in tears by this point, not just because of the current stressful and life-threatening situation, but because of Tom's malaise.

Hermione and Harry pushed against the crowd, desperate, they tried to cut through the jumble of civilian color and military green; however, it was a fruitless pursuit as they started getting bumped into and accidentally hit from all sides. In a desperate gesture, Harry started screaming at the guards for help; however, his cry was lost amongst the cacophony.

Grounding herself and covering her head, Hermione turned to look back at Ron, but found that neither he nor Ginny were there. She couldn't spot them at all! Hermione's heart begun to quake in its terror as she accepted the likely possibility of being trampled to death.

Suddenly, there was a loud blow and Hermione felt herself taken off her feet and falling sideways through the air. She heard Harry's frenzied shriek and then blinding pain and blackness as her head hit a hard surface.

* * *

Light. Lots of it shining through the window. Instantly, Hermione closed her eyes as her senses slowly sharpened enough to register not just a visual stimulus, but an auditory one as well. Or rather, a serious of known and unknown auditory sources all around her. . . speaking of her . . . .

Hermione's brown eyes snapped open a tad more violently than she expected.

"Hermione, Hermione, so glad you're awake," Ginny muttered while squeezing her hand, Hermione managed a feeble smile which died on her lips as she looked at the faces of everyone else around her.

Harry, Ron, the Weasleys, Dumbledore and Scrimgeour? What was he doing here? And why were their faces full of apprehension and suspicion? Swallowing, she turned towards the sole friendly face, she had fallen hadn't she? She was a victim, why were they looking at her as if she'd done something bad?

"I need to speak with Hermione alone," Ginny said suddenly, the brevity in her tone causing Hermione's stomach to churn: what had happened while she was out?

"No," Scrimgeour intervened, arms crossed, "we all need to speak with her, and the nurse needs to run the test which we all have to be here for."

"What test?" Hermione muttered, her throat dry as she propped herself up on her arms.

"A paternity test for the child you are carrying."

There was fire in her cheeks, a fire that consumed her head and then moved down her inert torso causing her heart and stomach to beat rambunctiously.

"What . . . how?"

"After you fell and hit your head at the trial, you were brought to St. Mungo's. When they did a full physical, they noticed your magical levels were off; so they drew blood and noticed the presence of pregnancy hormones. You are three weeks in, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore said matter-of-factly.

Hermione was at a loss of words, the baby was Tom's of course, and if they found out, her child's life would be hitting a dead end street.

"But it . . . I mean, Ron ," she muttered weakly, incoherently . . . her panic at her child's impending demise causing her to shake and hot flashes to swell all around her body: it was the only thing she had left, they had already taken Tom . . . . She had only known of her baby's existence for a minute, and yet Hermione knew she would defend it with her life.

"Could be the father, but it's best to be safe and run the test," Scrimgeour interjected before nodding expectantly towards the nurse.

"We actually can't run a paternity test until at least the 10th week," said nurse said apologetically.

"Why? If it's on moral grounds, I can give -"

"It's just biological. We won't get a definitive result until the 10th week."

Hermione was holding her breath, her left hand moving silently underneath the covers to clutch protectively over her inhabited middle. The baby was safe . . . at least for seven more weeks . . . .

Scrimgeour looked like he was about to throttle the nurse, his jaw twitching as he grated his teeth. Then, Dumbledore squeezed his arm as he addressed the nurse.

"What about a magical signature test?"

"Eight weeks is the soonest we can perform that, but it's not recommended to apply it before the 10th week since it will only have 50% accuracy. I suggest we either wait until the 10th week or abort the fetus now just for good measure."

"What? No!" Hermione snapped, her voice finding its usual strength, "absolutely not, I will wait until the 10th week!"

"It's better to abort it now, Ms. Granger," Scrimgeour said in a pressed voice, "It's true that your fiancé could be the father, but it is also just as likely that it could be Lord Voldemort. It's better to abort this one, and then you and Ronald can -"

"This is my CHILD you're talking about! A human being, you can just sentence him to death like that! Ron!"

Said redhead let out a sigh and ran his hand through his hair as he looked down at the floor, Molly's hand clutching on her son's shoulder.

"Honestly, Hermione, I would feel much better if you aborted this one, and what's the point of waiting seven more weeks? We can always have another -"

"After you're married," she heard the Weasley matron interject; however, Hermione was only half listening. Instead, she was staring at Ron in utter disbelief.

"The point? The point is that this could be _your _child you're sending to the gallows."

"Hermione," Ron looked up, his face red as he sheepishly muttered, "three weeks ago we didn't even . . . ."

"Yes, we did," Hermione snapped, ignoring the fact that this subject was making all the Weasleys present very uncomfortable, "that weekend -"

"That was four weeks ago -"

"No! It was three," Hermione snapped stubbornly. She knew he was right, but she would do anything to grant her child a chance at life. "But you know what, it doesn't matter what you think because I will NOT abort or go through the paternity test now or any day before the recommended 10 weeks."

"Ms. Granger you are most likely carrying the child of a psychopathic murderer who's caused the deaths of your friends, classmates, co-workers and countless other innocents; its birth -"

"I never refused to abort Lord Voldemort's child. The only thing I refused to do is abort my child before we find out who the father is," Hermione replied just as slowly and icily.

Scrimgeour's nostrils were flaring, his golden eyes burning through hers. "And how do we know that you won't take off with it before the 10 weeks have passed?"

"Because I honor my promises, and I promise to have the test done upon the 10th week," Hermione replied staring him straight in the eyes to substantiate her intent.

"Fine," Scrimgeour said slowly, his eyes retreated to look back at the crowd of onlookers. "I want everyone except the nurse to leave this room, I wish to have a word with Ms. Granger and take a vow."

Instantly, Hermione felt Ginny clutch at her arm with renewed strength, but Hermione unclasped Ginny's hand from her arm and gave her a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine, Gin, thank you."

"Please let me stay with you -" Ginny started.

"Ms. Weasley, the sooner you leave, the sooner Ms. Granger and I can get this over with."

Reluctantly, Ginny stood up and walked towards Harry who threw Hermione one last worried look before closing the door and leaving Hermione with Scrimgeour and the apathetic nurse by her bedside.

Hermione didn't like the stare the Minister was giving her. His harsh, wrinkled face set in an aloof and hostile manner. "You're in love with him, aren't you?"

A twitch of an eyebrow was the only show of her shock at his statement.

"Yes, of course I'm in love with Ron, he is my -"

"How stupid do you think I am!" he snapped, "you know who I mean! You're in love with Voldemort!"

The nurse next to her instantly shed her nonchalant stance as she turned, open-mouthed towards the girl in the bed.

"Why would you say that?"

"Yes or no."

"No, and why would you accuse me of such a thing?" Hermione went on as she rapidly remembered Tom's breathing exercises and strengthened her Occlumentic walls.

"You were extremely distressed during the trial," he snapped, "and while a part of me registered the look in your eyes as extreme longing and heartbreak, I ignored that voice because that's what us decent humans do, we choose to think the best of people. So I reasoned that you were probably just distressed at seeing Voldemort and reliving all the horrors he had put you through which you yourself confessed to on national television. So, of course after I was notified of your pregnancy and rushed here, I was expecting you to beg to have this thing be rid of you, after all why would you want to spend a second more with the spawn of the man who brutalized you? However, your fiancé's family, mainly that Ginevra, asked for a paternity test to be done just in case which I agreed to because I thought it could be done immediately. After all, I assumed that you would want to know as soon as possible so you could either be rid of this thing or go celebrate! So imagine my surprise when you adamantly oppose an abortion, even though you know there's a great chance that that child is Lord Voldemort's, and that you'd rather wait for seven weeks with it growing inside you! The child of the man who, according to your interview, put you through the most trying and horrifying experience of your life."

"We are not sure if it is His, and it is _my_ child above all; I feel I owe it at least a paternity test before extinguishing its life," Hermione snarled through clenched teeth.

"For the greater good, Herm -"

"The greater good can wait seven weeks!" Hermione snapped with more venom than she anticipated, she had had enough of Dumbledore's , and apparently Scrimgeour's, trademark excuse.

"Well, then I guess we are out of options, aren't we?" he said coldly.

"No, we have the option that you yourself suggested which is that I take a vow to have the test done upon the 10th week."

He sighed as he reached in his pocket, "very well," he begun to unsheathe his wand.

Hermione frowned, "you and I will be taking the vow, Nurse Cornellia will be the bonder."

"Desevanesco!"

Instinctively, Hermione ducked and clutched at her side for her wand, but she was in a hospital gown, and her wand was nowhere near her. The horror she felt at this realization of her utter vulnerability was cut abruptly short as his curse impacted upon her shoulder and forced blackness settled all around her for the second time that day.

* * *

"I can't believe they are having two healers waste their time examining Voldemort to classify him as sane or insane, his acts alone can tell you that!"

"If he is declared as being insane and thus unfit to stand trial, he gets off! So that's the last thing we want," Harry told Ron as he closed the newspaper he was reading and placed it upon the coffee table.

"Gets off? Like what are you saying, Harry? They'll just pat him on the back and send him home?"

"No, they'll send him to a mental facility in order to treat him and bring him to a state of mind where he is able to stand trial at which time the proceedings against him would be restarted, but that doesn't matter!"

"What do they mean by bringing him to a state of mind where he is able to stand trial?" Ron asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

"I don't remember the exact wording but basically Dumbledore says that in order for someone to be competent to stand trial, they must be aware of the events they are accused of committing and be able to consult with their lawyer and understand him . . . well . . . they must both be able to understand each other," Harry's face twisted up as he struggled to remember the wording, "and the defendant has to have a rational as well as factual understanding of the proceedings against him. But in this case, all of that doesn't even matter anyway because Tom Riddle is the one who is on trial, and Voldemort is taking advantage of that and refusing the charges on the basis that he is another person!"

"WHAT?"

Harry let out an exasperated laugh. "Yeah, and it's brilliant! It's fucking brilliant! Because the Ministry and the judges know that he is Tom Riddle, and that Lord Voldemort is an alias. So by Voldemort denying being Tom Riddle even though he is obviously him since he is in Tom's body, he's pushed the judges to question his sanity and court a possible diagnosis of Dissociative Identity Disorder!"

"What is that?" Ron asked, face pale amidst his fiery freckles.

"Multiple personalities." Harry pushed himself off the couch and begun pacing across the rug, the palm of his hand pressing into his eye socket with frustrated trenchantness. "And if he gets that diagnosis, he cannot be held legally accountable for his crimes since they were not committed by Tom Riddle, but rather his "alter" Voldemort."

"But he's not going to get that, it's too far fetched, and why would," Ron broke off and gasped, breathless from surprise and worry, "why would they let him go like that, they know that he did it, I mean do you have any idea the riots -"

Harry laughed weakly, shaking his head with bitter wonder.

"But that's the biggest irony, Ron! If he gets diagnosed with multiple personalities, he will be declared unfit to stand trial, and if he's not tried, he can't be prosecuted, period!" Harry threw up his hands, eyes wide before plunging on, leaning towards Ron to emphasize the butt of the joke,"and if for some reason, after he gets the diagnosis, the Tribunal or the Ministry decide to ignore it and prosecute him anyway, they would be acting illegally and anti-constitutionally!" Harry's eyes glinted with gleeful disbelief at this epitome of irony and legal chicanery, "the United Nations and human rights groups would put a cry through the air and denounce us for transgressing our own justice system! Voldemort would be a legal martyr, and we, the criminals! "

Harry's harsh laugh was accompanied by renewed, nervous hair pulling as he continued his meditative pacing.

"But Harry," Ron said shakily, "this is all hinging on Vo- Voldemort getting the multiple personality diagnosis, and I'm sure that they're not going to make it easy for him, they know what he's done, and they should know to expect something like this from him!"

"From Voldemort, yes, but not Tom," Harry said quietly, hands balling in his pockets. He looked up at Ron, "it's perfectly set up, Ron . . . and through sheer luck, too. You remember I told you about Tom Riddle's reputation right?"

Ron nodded. "Brilliant, handsome, kind, helpful . . . ."

Harry nodded somberly, eyes heavy with the burden of acceptance. "Exactly. Dumbledore himself told me after we escaped the Chamber of Secrets, _hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here_. So when the healers research Riddle's reputation, they will only find references to his good character and likability. In other words, Tom Riddle will come out looking like the exact opposite of Voldemort and so of course it will only reinforce the idea of multiple personalities!"

Harry bit his lip and looked away, his brow furrowed in chagrin.

"Magic or no magic, he is still him, and if the Ministry truly wanted to neutralize him, they should've found a way to strip him of his intelligence because that is where his true power lies."

"Blimey," Ron uttered, eyes unfocused as he realized the bind they were now in through the acts of someone they thought defeated.

"He's brilliant . . . fucking brilliant," the table before them creaked as Harry's hand slapped down on its surface with pent-up frustration, "because he knows that once he's in the mad house, he's safe from the gallows and that with time, an opportunity to break out and regain his power will come."

"Harry," Ron whispered, "you have to keep in mind though that the people will go crazy; they'll probably take justice into their own hands before he even makes it to the looney bin."

"I'm sure he'll be well-guarded," Harry said briefly, "it's all the committee's fault! Bringing in German and French judges along with ours?" Harry let out an exasperated noise, "They haven't nearly been through what we've been through; so of course they're going to carry this out like a normal trial and give him loopholes! Scrimgeour should've had him killed outright, the moment they captured him, they should've 'Avada Kedavraed' him and dealt with the United Magical Nations' shit fit later because at least then Voldemort would've been dead!"

"I'm sure the healers will declare him fit to stand trial unless they want to be watching their backs for the rest of their lives."

"Their names are being kept in complete secrecy, no one knows who they are except for the main judges."

Harry plopped down next to Ron, his face a twisted mask of rage.

"Why can't he just fucking crawl into a hole and die? I DESERVE TO HAVE A FUCKING LIFE!"

Ron jumped off the couch as Harry kicked out at the table in front of their seats causing it to flip over, ornaments crashing down onto the carpet.

"I don't get it, I'm a good person, or at least I'm constantly told that I'm a good person and yet look at the hand that fate deals me!" Harry laughed bitterly. "'The Boy Who Lived' . . . more like 'The Boy Who Lived in Eternal, Never-Ending Hell'" Harry gasped, teeth biting down his bottom lip in desperate agony as he fell on the couch next to Ron and buried his face in his hands. "I want this to end, I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE . . . I DON'T WANT TO BE THE SAVIOR OF ANYTHING!"

Harry's catharsis was unexpected: Ron had never seen his friend so raw and utterly defeated. It was as if he had just realized that Voldemort would never leave him, and it shook Ron to his very core as he was forced to swallow the bitter syrup of the current situation.

"Harry . . ." Ron looked around as he tried to think of something to say to console him; however, whichever way he looked at the situation, he had to admit that the scales were tipped in the so called "powerless" Dark Lord's favor. Feeling like crying himself, Ron wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him into as tight a hug as he could.

Both friends clung to each other as their blanket of hope was wrenched from them, and for the first time in their young lives, they were left unprotected from the bitter cold of reality.

* * *

The first day of the Death Eaters' trial took place on a rainy and overcast London morning. Dumbledore caught a brief sight of the streaks of mud that had developed on the marble floor as people flooded for the monumental occasion. The audience had been significantly reduced, the headmaster noticed as he entered the courtroom and followed Scrimgeour and Dolores to their seats in the front row. Because of the riots that had broke out the first day of trial, security had been strengthened tenfold and the people allowed to witness the trial had been cut by half. All those who had participated in the riot had been banned and those who wanted to attend and were not vouched for by the Minister or another high ranking Ministry official, had to petition for permission and turn their wands in at the door.

Even the floo networks and all other entrances into the Ministry had been password protected. In order to be transported into the Ministry, one had to input the permit number they were owled by security in order for the numerous entryways to function.

_Security is indeed tight_.

Dumbledore's eyes grazed over the throng of guards that were stationed all along the four walls of the courtroom, a mere foot between each guard. There were also others going up and down the stairs keeping an eye for any whiff of misconduct in the spectator box.

"Albus."

The headmaster turned to look at Rufus and Dolores who were now turned towards him.

"The healers examining Voldemort will probably call you in for an interview since you knew him in his youth," Rufus whispered as Dumbledore leaned in towards him, "so you should start preparing your answers by thinking of times where his future conduct was portended."

"I know," Dumbledore said quietly before a sigh escaped him, "but unfortunately, there are no proven moments like that. I'm afraid that Tom was ever the model student while he was Hogwarts and took great care to cover his tracks so that his bad conduct could never be proven. This interview will most likely require an oath of truth; so I will not be able to lie or exaggerate. I'm afraid that we're backed into a corner, Rufus . . . and we need to find an alternate route. However, I do not think it is a good idea to discuss this in the open."

Rufus nodded, adam's apple bobbing loudly at the complexity and hopelessness of the situation. It was an unsettling turn of events, one that no one had been able to predict even though, Dumbledore now realized, it had been right in front of their noses the entire time. To a bystander, Voldemort and Tom were polar opposites: the latter having shown nothing but the utmost responsibility and decorum while the former hadn't shown anything but cruelty and ruthlessness. Thus, to think of Voldemort as being the Mr. Hyde to Tom's Dr. Jekyll was not far-fetched at all and all proof the healers could accrue would only strengthen the idea of the two as being disparate since Tom had always been careful to not reveal his dark side while still himself.

In short, unless Tom made a mistake with his portrayal of different personalities (and with Tom's enviable acting skills and adroit lying, Dumbledore highly doubted this would be the case), his diagnosis and postponement of trial were guaranteed.

The headmaster shook his head and chuckled silently.

_The most brilliant student to ever attend Hogwarts_ . . . this appreciation no longer seemed to do justice to Tom's genius for it is only when a man is down and helpless that his true capacity can be measured in how he finagles his way back up. Now that Tom's play was becoming evident, Dumbledore was having a hard time setting aside his admiration and appreciation for his former student. _Such boundless intelligence _. . . It was almost criminal that a man so psychologically depraved would be given such a gift.

"Unbelievable isn't it," Dumbledore murmured, eyes fixed in a far off point, a bright glint in his eyes, "that we are outmaneuvered by a man who is completely alone, powerless and imprisoned."

Scrimgeour said nothing, but Dumbledore caught the harsh look that the Minister's face obtained as his great ego took Dumbledore's backhanded comment. Rufus was spared from answering, however, since at that moment the doors behind the defendants' box were opened and the captured Death Eaters were led in by a small army of guards.

The murmurs behind and around them started up again, but slowly diminished when the door at the opposite end of the room in front of the Judge's quarters was opened and a balding man exited past the guards and up to the podium in front of the judges' box.

"All rise. The Honorable Tribunal constituted by Judge Jeanine Pirro and Judge Wilbert West of the British Ministry, Judge Gotthilf Garthwaite and Heinrich Mallender from the Ministry of Germany; Judge Tanguy Clemenceau and Judge Hyacinth Jacques Lambert from the Ministry of France. Judge Heinrich Mallender presiding over this first session on April 7th 2002."

There was a general rumble as people rose to their feet in well-schooled silence.

"You may be seated," the man at the podium went on after the judges had taken their seats. The audience did so as the German judge who was presiding over the session leaned into the microphone in front of him. "As the names of the defendants are called each defendant will stand, and will remain standing until told to be seated. Mr. Secretary General of the Tribunal will call the roll of the defendants."

A second man stood from his seat with a parchment in hand and begun to read, "Rodolphus Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, Antonin Dolohov, Fenrir Greyback, Thorfinn Rowle, Lucan Mulciber Jr. The Honorable Tribunal, please, all of the defendants are in the dock."

Judge Mallender leaned forward towards the microphone. "The defendants will be seated. The counsel for the Prosecution will now proceed with the arraignment of the defendants."

Dumbledore cast a brief glance at the Death eaters who complied with the judge's order quietly as they prepared to hear one of the British prosecutors who was now leaning towards the microphone, paper in front of her.

"Britain, by the undersigned Mary Taylor, Chief of Counsel for War Crimes, duly appointed to represent said Government in the prosecution of war criminals, charges that the defendants herein participated in a Common Design or Conspiracy to commit and did commit War Crimes and Crimes against Humanity, as defined in Control Council Law No. 10. These crimes include murders, brutalities, cruelties, tortures, atrocities, and other inhumane acts, as set forth in Counts One, Two, and Three of this Indictment. All defendants are further charged with membership in a Criminal Organization, as set forth in Count Four of this Indictment. The persons accused as guilty of these crimes and accordingly named as defendants in this cause are:

Rodolphus Lestrange, chief officer of the Erinyes. This organization under his charge carried out all intelligence missions dictated by Tom Marvolo Riddle aka. Lord Voldemort himself, including high-ranked killings and kidnappings using their well-trained army of hitmen and spies.

Lucius Malfoy, chief officer of the Kuberas and second in command to Tom Marvolo Riddle aka. Lord Voldemort. This organization under his charge was in charge of Death Eater finances and was responsible for extorting money from high-ranked British Ministry officials; they were also responsible for all blackmailing and bribing of the latter.

Antonin Dolohov, minister in charge of foreign policy and diplomacy. Members of his unit were diplomats who were in charge of blackmailing, negotiating and intimidating foreign dignitaries and officials.

Fenrir Greyback, pack leader of the Lycantroopes. A faction of werewolves loyal to Tom Marvolo Riddle aka. Lord Voldemort.

Thorfinn Rowle, headmaster of the "Intelligence Academy." Members of his unit were in charge of training Rodolphus Lestrange's recruits to become hitmen and spies.

Lucan Mulciber Jr, headmaster of "The Academy". Members of his unit were in charge of teaching and training all new recruits in the use of the Dark Arts for combat. The Academy also housed the research lab where hundreds of muggle and wizard prisoners were used as test subjects in degrading and harmful experiments with the Dark Arts.

Count one - the common design or conspiracy.

Between September 1970 and April 2002 all of the defendants herein, acting pursuant to a common design, unlawfully, willfully, and knowingly did conspire and agree together and with each other and with diverse other persons, to commit War Crimes and Crimes against Humanity. They were also connected with plans and enterprises involving the commission of War Crimes and Crimes against Humanity both as defined in Control Council Law No. 10, Article II. All of the defendants are responsible unlawfully, willfully, and knowingly participated as leaders, organizers, instigators, and accomplices in the formulation and execution of the said common design, conspiracy, plans and enterprises to commit, and which involved the commission of, War Crimes and Crimes against Humanity -"

Dumbledore felt himself disconnecting from the woman's winded speech, the Death Eaters after all were done for, they were just waiting to be thrown into the cooking pot. Their leader, on the other hand, was coming very close to escaping out the open window and it was why Dumbledore wanted to use this time to focus his mind and come up with a plan to carry out the most pressing task at hand: preventing Lord Voldemort from declaring 'checkmate'.

* * *

"This man in the picture is the same as the one in mirror, no?"

"Yes, this is Tom's face."

The plastic hand mirror clattered down onto the metal table as the bearer of the conflicted face looked up at the healer, exasperation clearly etched into his handsome features.

"And yet you're not Tom," the healer continued with the tone one reserves for a petulant five year old.

"No, I am his lordship."

"And yet you're in Tom's body."

"The lord had his own face and body, but it was stripped away from him and so now he must make do," ballet hands lifted themselves limply off his lap and motioned towards his torso and face, "with this."

"I would say it's a great improvement, wouldn't you?" the healer muttered, hand readjusting his glasses.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, pointed chin angling upwards. "His lordship does not appreciate unprovoked amorous passes."

The healer threw up his hands, a snort of a laugh. "That was not at all my intention I assure you and your lord."

"_I_ am Lord Voldemort."

"Well then why do you speak of him in the third person?"

Voldemort readjusted himself in his hard metal chair and crossed his hands over his lap along with his legs. "Because his lordship deserves respect and right now there is no one to pay said price; so I must pay it myself."

"Interesting," the healer muttered, pen scratching his mustache pensively, " so tell me, my lord, what happened with Tom?"

"He's dead."

The healer smirked, pen coming away from his mouth, "if Tom were dead then you wouldn't be here, Lord Voldemort. Now, according to all documents and eyewitnesses," the healer looked down upon the open file on his lap, "you are Tom Riddle, an orphaned boy who grew up in the East End of London, born 1927 . . . graduated Hogwarts in 1944 top of the class, adulated left and right by professors and students alike and then . . . mysteriously disappeared until seventy some years later when we finally learn that Tom Riddle went on to become Lord Voldemort. So, "

The file was closed just as Voldemort swallowed loudly and looked up at the healer who was now leaning over towards him, forearms on his chubby thighs.

"Just because you changed your name doesn't mean that you've changed identities, Tom, you are still that orphaned, neglected, poor, but brilliant -"

"That was Tom, and I am well aware of his history, _healer"_ Voldemort said through gritted teeth, "and no, Tom is not literally dead, I am not daft, but he's as good as. He hasn't had control over the body since he left school, he gave it to me to do as I please. So I will tell you what I've been telling every Auror since I got here, I will only respond to crimes attributed to Lord Voldemort _not_ Tom Riddle."

"Well, we can't charge Lord Voldemort because there is no person with that legal name, but onto more important matters, you said Tom gave you the body?" the healer repeated while motioning for the quick quill floating next to him to jot down notes on the piece of parchment beneath it. "How did he give it to you?"

"That is between Tom and I."

"Voldemort, answer my question," the healer repeated, his voice contrived from his effort to control his temper.

"No, I have said too much."

"Why do you feel that way?"

"Because it is none of your business," Voldemort replied icily.

"Voldemort, if you don't collaborate with us -"

"You'll what?" Voldemort snapped, soft hands flying from their previously relaxed position and slamming down onto the desk, "throw me in jail? Kill me?" he laughed derisively while pushing his chair back, "well sorry to break it to you, _healer_, but I didn't come here for vacation! And don't dare try and tell me that it really matters whether Tom or Voldemort control the body, either way you're going to kill us both!"

"Healer Masterson!"

Said healer who had been gaping open mouthed at the infuriated man before him turned as his name was called from the open door where a slim, middle-aged man in a similar white healer coat stood.

"A word."

Masterson wasted no time, he got off his chair and after throwing Voldemort one last glance left the room. The blond man at the door cast the prisoner inside a quick glance before lowering his gaze and ushering his robust comrade out, the heavy door bolting in place to announce their safe departure.

* * *

"I've never seen a case like this before . . . a persecutor alter taking over the body and subjugating the host! Neswald, this could be our big break!"

"We musn't rush to conclusions, Samuel, he could be faking it," David Neswald muttered as they rapidly moved through the corridors of the underground prison.

"I don't think so, his behavior has been consistent every time and his story makes sense. I mean you heard him -"

"Let's wait until we're in my office, Samuel, please."

Masterson was too short of breath to reply judging by his wheezing; so Neswald slowed down his pace. He didn't want the man getting a heart attack in the middle of such an important case after all; plus they were around the corner from his makeshift office anyway.

As soon as they arrived at the unsuspecting door, Neswald pulled out his wand and pointed it at the door as he said his password.

"Mandragola"

His wand emitted an orange light that went through the keyhole which then issued a clunk. David turned the handle without further ado and bid his colleague in.

"Fascinating . . . utterly fascinating," Masterson muttered as he went over to the newly installed coffee pot at the corner of Neswald's office and waved his wand over it to make it heat up the coffee inside.

"We shouldn't jump to conclusions, Samuel. . ."

"Oh I know, you eternal cynic!" Masterson waved him away as he walrused his way across the room and sat down in the chair facing Neswald's desk with a loud plop. "Still haven't set up your brand new fancy office?"

"For the time we're going to be here, I didn't think to put in that much effort."

"See? So you do think he's an easy diagnosis!"

"I think there's more to him than what we've seen so far, Samuel," Neswald said slowly.

"Well of course there is! So far we've only spoken with Voldemort, but there's more alters, David, he said it himself he said ' you're going to kill _us_'."

"He was referring to Riddle and himself."

"But there are others . . . when he first arrived here remember how quiet he was? He didn't speak to anyone for two days, and he crouched in a corner of his cell the whole time, I'm willing to bet that that was a child-like alter! DID patients always have one."

"Masterson, the last thing you want to do is suggest alters to him," Neswald said cautiously, "we have only spoken to him twice now, we need more time before we make said diagnosis . . . . It's going to stir up quite a storm when it comes out; so we have to make sure we have all the evidence to back it up."

Masterson nodded. "Yes, of course . . . .I just wish we could get him to talk. He seems to like you more for some reason." He looked up at David, eyes slightly narrowed.

David huffed, an amused smile on his lips as he went to serve them coffee from the pot, "jealous much, Masterson?"

"I think he likes you."

Neswald let out a cackle. "Oh . . . Samuel, so what are you suggesting? That I use my salacious healer wiles to seduce him into becoming your perfect new case study?"

Samuel laughed at Neswald's husky voice and accepted the cup he held out with a brief 'thanks'. Neswald sat down in the seat next to his colleague and they both drank from their mugs deeply, a pensive silence hanging over the two.

"Ask him about his attack on Dolohov at the trial," Neswald said, eyes staring pensively at the corner of his small office, "I could've sworn I heard quite a strong brogue . . . not to mention that I can't picture refined, soft handed Voldemort ever resorting to physical violence."

"I think you should ask him," Masterson said, "I've already spoken with him today, and I don't think he's going to want anything more to do with me."

David nodded briefly and looked down at his hands clasping the mug in front of him, the swirling vapor a welcome reprieve from the cold of the room.

"Bring him a cup of joe, it'll put him in a good mood."

Neswald looked up with an amused snort. "Should I pack some scones with that?"

"Oh come on, it's just a cup of coffee, the most he can do is throw it at you, but I highly doubt that since I don't know of any man who would let a good steaming cup of black go to waste like that, not even on a fella like you, no offense, David."

"None taken," Neswald briefly said while standing up and going over to his desk where the pot of coffee sat, "now are you going to help me get this picnic on the road?"

* * *

"We brought you coffee, milord."

Neswald winced at Masterson's use of Voldemort's title, he didn't think the man before them should be coddled into thinking he still held unlimited power. Then again, he also didn't want to fight with him; so Neswald bit back a glare towards his colleague who still stood at the door and instead placed the steaming mug on the metal table next to the Dark Lord. The latter was reclined on his bed, hands crossed over his stomach and eyes closed, his face and shoulders relaxed and his normally imposing aura, oozed a deceptively gentle calm like that of small waves breaking onto a white sand shore.

But Neswald knew that it would take little to stir up a tsunami; so unlike Masterson, he kept his guard up as the silence settled onto the cell. The man on the bed had yet to move, he hadn't even acknowledged the mens' presence as he lay in a meditative trance. Neswald could hear Masterson's breathing as well as his own; and yet even with decades of experience, neither man could bring themselves to break the silence with another statement. It was a disconcerting fact that nagged in Neswald's subconscious, that the man laying supine before them: their prisoner, their magic-less patient . . . didn't even have to bat an eyelid to impose himself upon them.

Then, there was movement. Nostrils delicately flaring as the aroma of roasted beans pulled them out of their stupor.

Neswald's lips tugged up into a minute, lopsided smile: Voldemort may impose himself upon all men, but it looked like even he was not immune to a good cup of roast.

A flutter of spidery eyelashes and the peeking of a brown iris soon rushed on stage to accompany the nostrils' solo piece. Not long after, joints creaking, the Dark Lord pressed himself off the mattress and daintily placed his feet on the floor while reaching out to take the mug off the table and bring it towards his waiting lips.

"Is it okay?" Neswald found himself saying, no sooner had the words left his mouth though that he fought to urge to kick himself. This was NOT someone of authority.

"It will do," was the curt reply.

Masterson clucked his tongue from the doorway. "Basic manners, Voldemort, what do we say when someone does something for us?"

"Nice try, but next time I expect to have plain black coffee, none of these effeminate sugary condiments, and it shall be served in a porcelain cup."

Neswald pursed his lips and turned to look back at Masterson's reddening face.

"There won't be a next time, Voldemort," the man snapped and threw one last glance at Neswald, "best of luck to you. We'll talk tomorrow." The door clunked as it was closed and the many locks snapped into place.

"What an unpleasant man," Voldemort commented as he took another sip from his mug.

"You are not in charge here, Voldemort, Healer Masterson was nice enough to give you a cup of coffee, the least you could've done is thank him," Neswald said turning to face the man and taking a seat at the table so that he was facing Voldemort.

"**_Is_** his lordship really powerless, Neswald?"

The sibilant hiss and calculating, mirthful eyes hovering over the white coffee mug caused a chill to run through the therapist as he and Masterson's previous interactions with the man before them were brought to mind. Roughly, Neswald evaded the question and pushed on with his agenda.

"What happened at the trial?"

"Ah," Voldemort raised his eyebrows and made a gesture with his right hand as he slowly lowered his mug on his lap with his left, "they were being very disrespectful, his lordship merely showed them their place." His eyes glittered as he went on and bore into Neswald's cool blue pupils. "It's not every day that he allows plebeians in his almighty presence."

Neswald was somewhat amused; however, years of experience with narcissists allowed him to keep a straight face as he jotted a quick note in his journal.

"Hmm… well, I was actually talking about when you hit Dolohov. You started using some very unbecoming language for a lord of your stature, not to mention that you resorted to physical violence." Healer Neswald didn't miss how Voldemort's lips suddenly became pursed and his back straightened even more. "I would've never expected such a pedestrian response from a lord."

Voldemort remained silent; however, his hands were clenched in tight fists as he fought to keep his mouth shut and his composure strong.

"That wasn't Tom," Neswald went on slowly, he was going out on a limb here, but he needed to say it, "I knew Tom from school, and he was always a gentleman. I've already explained why I doubt your lordship would resort to such actions, so then it must be someone else. . . someone you haven't told Masterson or myself about, milord."

"No, there is no one else."

"If you don't tell me, I can't make a case for you and Tom."

"I could care less about Tom, he is weak and ineffectual!" Voldemort snapped. "However… his lordship would be greatly . . . incapacitated if the case goes as the Ministry wants. Thus," he sighed ceremoniously and crossed his legs, "I will acquaintance you with the others."

"How many are there?"

"Many. The one who hit Dolohov, was Seneca: a raging, hot-tempered coarse man he is! However, he comes in handy at times; so I let him take over the body during brief times."

Suddenly, Voldemort stood up abruptly, hands in his pockets. His previously ramrod straight back now hunched over as he shoved the table and kicked at a chair facing the one a startled Neswald sat in.

"Feckin' Voldemor' ! Dat poof alwus so 'igh an' mighty. 'imself givin' me control? I'd snap 'im meself in 'alf!"

It took all of Neswald's professional restraint to not let his voice quake at the unexpected shift, "I take it you are Seneca?" he said, attempting to sound as polite as possible.

"Tis. Yer one of 'em 'ealers, ain't yer? De wans Boy and Voldemor' as been blathering ter, eh?**"**

"Boy? Who's boy? When did we speak with him?"

"Boy is de wan who came 'ere! Dat stuk up poofster, Voldemor' let 'im oyt an' 'imself 'id, cowardly rat, Voldemor' only came back oyt before de trial! Oh! You insufferable healer, there, I gave you what you wanted, you meet that reprobate Seneca!"

Unsure of what to think, Neswald pressed on with the new information he had been given.

"Who's boy, Voldemort? You never mentioned him, and Seneca said he was the one who came here when you all were first captured."

"He is irrelevant, and despicable. I would've done away with him years ago were it not for that despicable brogue Seneca, always defending Tom and that child. . . .Had I done away with Tom, we wouldn't be in this predicament. Useless, worthless boy!"

"Why do you feel that way towards Tom?"

"Because I've lived with him since he was a child; he summoned me because he was too weak to fend off the bullies at the orphanage! I did a good job of protecting him. After a few years of this, Tom finally realized what a weak and worthless boy he was and decided he wasn't fit to run the body by himself; so he gave control to his lordship."

Neswald narrowed his eyes. "And what happened with Tom then?"

"He's there," Voldemort said lightly before turning on his heel and motioning carelessly in the air next to his head, "somewhere . . . ."

"I need to speak with Tom, Voldemort," Neswald pressed, "I need to speak with him for my report, please get him to come out even for a couple of minutes."

"Address me proper, _Healer_ Neswald, or this will be the end of our conversation," Voldemort snapped.

"I am doing this for your and Tom's benefit, Voldemort, so don't press your luck," Neswald said acerbically.

"I call you by what you wish to be called; all I'm asking is that you do the same."

Voldemort's hand was wrapped around the side of the table, his knuckles blanche like the walls of the cell.

"Well, I'm not going to do that from now on, Voldemort, and you know why?" Neswald pushed himself off the bed so he was face to face with the Dark Lord whose jaw was clenched as tightly as his fist on the table. "Because you need to learn that you are not the owner of the body, you are not even _real_, Tom is the owner, and he is strong and -"

"TOM RELINQUISHED THE BODY FOR ME TO CONTROL!" Voldemort barked, "HE IS UTTERLY PUSILLANIMOUS!"

"I doubt he would relinquish his body to you, Voldemort, you must've tricked him into giving it over." Neswald raised his voice as Voldemort opened his mouth to retort, "I MAY NOT HAVE KNOWN TOM AT THE ORPHANAGE, BUT I KNEW HIM AT HOGWARTS, AND HE WAS ANYTHING BUT WEAK." Taking a step forward until he was almost nose to nose with Voldemort who was shaking in ire. "He may have needed you at the orphanage, but he sure as hell did not need you at Hogwarts. He did very well there and that must've scared you, seeing his need for you disappearing . . . you must've taken advantage of him when you knew he was weak, during the summer, at the orphanage -"

"You know not of what you speak," Voldemort let out through a clenched jaw.

"Oh but I think you do, Voldemort! You are the weak one, that's why you felt the need to take the body from Tom before he became strong enough to dispose of you! But I know that he's capable of overpowering you, and I need him to do that now, Tom, I need to speak with you, please come out! Forget what Voldemort has told you, you are strong enough -"

"You are wasting your time, Neswald! Tom NEEDS me, and he wants me in control! LEAVE!"

"TOM, I WANT TO HELP YOU, PLEASE COME OUT!"

"YOU FOOL, TOM IS NOT COMING!"

Voldemort pushed the healer back causing the latter to trip over the chair he had been sitting in previously and falling on his back to the ground. Immediately, he reached for the chair as he saw Voldemort take a hold of it and begin to raise it over the healer.

"Voldemort, put the chair down," Neswald said through gritted teeth. The Dark Lord was now attempting to push the bar between the chair's legs down onto Neswald's neck, the latter's hands shook as they struggled to resist the downward force. "Unless you want me to call out for the Aurors."

"Scrimgeour placed silencing wards all around this cell, my dear healer, god forbid anyone hears principled Minister Scrimgeour torturing that reprobate of the Dark Lord."

Neswald bit his lip as the man above him exerted a greater amount of pressure upon his last, viciously pronounced words.

"I am sorry that's been happening, but the sooner I speak with Tom -"

Neswald trailed off when the pressure on the chair suddenly relented. Voldemort had frozen in his actions, his wide, wrathful eyes slowly relaxing. Neswald swallowed and tentatively gave the chair a push; as he hoped, the chair gave and the sudden movement caused the man above him to blink before yanking the chair back abruptly. Neswald let him and quickly got on his feet as he surveyed Tom placing the chair back by the table.

"Tom."

"David."

Neswald stared at his Hogwarts idol at a loss of words, this was the first time he was seeing him in over 50 years after all.

"I am sorry it has taken me so long to come to terms with this dreadful situation," the latter continued, his hands held behind his back.

"I understand," Neswald said with a nod, "I . . . I." Neswald shook his head and looked away with a sigh. There were too many questions in his mind . . . too many implications, and he didn't know where to start.

"You're the first to know, you know," Tom begun conversationally, his hands unclasped from behind his back as he gesticulated with them, "I've always kept my being a multiple a secret."

"But - you should've . . ." Neswald bit his lip, "why didn't you get help?"

Tom narrowed his eyes and sniffed as his eyebrow cocked back like a question mark over her right eye. Immediately, Neswald reacted to the subconscious stimulus by experiencing a fleeting image of the man before him as the uniformed head boy he'd been in their days.

"It was the 1940s, Dave, if I'd gone to the nurse telling her I had different people in my head, I would've ended up at an asylum. Besides, I knew how to control it -"

"Then how come Voldemort took over after you left school?"

Tom's lips retracted. "You already know," he said quietly, "I heard what you told Voldemort, and I'm afraid that I must agree with him: I _was_ weak. Between him and Seneca, they've kept me locked up for the most part of all these years . . ."

"Seneca? He seemed to be on your side, though," Neswald interjected.

Tom sniffed and rolled his eyes. "That blundering oaf likes to think he's keeping me from this world in order to protect me, but in reality he's suppressing me because he knows that if I took control, I would not allow him the body again. He is horribly uncivilized and crude, gives me a bad image," Tom added, "he hates Voldemort but does his bidding because at times he allows him control over the body."

"So you were never able to stop Voldemort throughout all these years?"

Tom suddenly slumped down in the chair. His long- lashed pensive eyes on his clutched hands. "I'm afraid I… removed myself from his actions quite a number of years ago."

Neswald kept silent even though his anger pressed at him to chastize Tom for having looked the other way while his alter committed atrocities on the very world he'd professed to love.

"Throughout the years after his takeover of the body, I tried rebelling against him and Seneca, but they were always able to suppress me. Then one day, sometime after Voldemort's first rise to power, I noticed my room door was unlocked, and so I ventured out and . . ." Tom swallowed loudly, "it was night, and he was there with his followers . . . I could see them, and I could see some prisoners. I watched, completely helpless, as one by one these men and women were stripped and . . . tortured," Tom spat the word before closing his eyes tightly, his fisted hand pressing against his forehead.

Neswald watched him compassionately as Tom's visage regained its nonchalance once more, and he continued after opening his eyes.

"They were all raped, some were flayed, others mutilated . . . .One man was even deep fried in a cauldron full of boiling oil."

The image as well as the venomous emotions in Tom's voice made Neswald cringe.

"It was utterly horrifying, and yet as much as I fought to leave and go back to my room, I could not. I was stuck witnessing everything Voldemort did _in my body. _To think that all the people present thought that I, Tom Riddle, was consciously doing all these things -" Tom broke off while shaking his head. "I was there for almost an hour before Voldemort let me go, and after that, I stopped fighting because I'd seen what my body had become and what people thought that I'd become. My studious, equanimous head boy reputation was tarnished, and I realized, as Voldemort wanted me to, that even if I did push him out, I would be left at the helm of a ship whose course was now unchangeable. So I ensconced myself within my room and refused to come out after that, and all I hoped for every day for years to come, was that Voldemort would be killed, and thus I would be free . . . in death as I never was in life." Tom swallowed and looked up at the healer, gaze rolling and swelling with a dark tide of emotions. "That's why I need Voldemort to be convicted and killed."

Grinding his teeth, Neswald tried hard not to show that with his last statement, Tom had managed to crumble almost all of Healer Neswald's skepticism at Masterson's diagnosis of him having Dissociative Identity Disorder. _Of course, he could be using reverse psychology to make me believe the diagnosis_ a voice in Neswald's head whispered, _but no, this is Tom, Tom would never do that . . . Tom always helped me._

"Tom . . ." Neswald interjected, his tone more emotionally laden than he'd have liked, "I agree that Voldemort needs to go, but you . . ." he needed to choose his words carefully, "you may not need to go with him."

Said man lowered his eyes and scratched at his head. "I don't know . . . if I want to risk it. I don't . . . I don't think I can control them, they've been in control for too long." Tom's eyes were wide and limpid, exactly as Neswald remembered the head boy's from his Hogwarts days had been as he gladly acquiesced to read David'd essay for Charms class.

"You're in control now," Neswald countered.

"Yes, but it's quite tiring," Tom said slowly, "and the only reason why Voldemort hasn't taken over is because Seneca is restraining him."

"Well at least Seneca's on your side in this one," Neswald commented.

Tom rolled his eyes. "Only because he wants you to diagnose me as unfit for trial so that they can continue to use the body. They don't care about saving me, they only want to save the body, and if I die, the body goes with me."

Neswald gave a small nod as he wrote down more notes on his notepad, mind running amok with thoughts. He needed to check some data on DID as soon as he got back to his office . . . organize his notes and make sure that the behavior of Tom and his alters was consistent with a valid diagnosis of DID instead of a factitious one. He wasn't about to rush into a diagnosis like Masterson had done; if, however, his data checked out- as Neswald had a feeling it would - he would call Masterson to tell him he'd joined his ship. They would then need to schedule a session with a hypnotist to draw out any other alters and administer personality tests to these different personalities. They would also need to interview people who knew both Tom and Voldemort for evidence to support that these multiple personalities had existed before his capture. . . . If all that checked out, they could rule out any evidence of malingering and faithfully declare him 'unfit for trial'.

"You have a lot on your mind," Tom commented, finger scratching at his lip.

"I have a lot of work," Neswald replied vaguely.

"You should go, I don't want to keep you." Tom handed him the now empty mug, "and thanks for the coffee, Voldemort can be such an ass."

"No problem," Neswald replied with a smirk.

"I'm probably going to get walloped for this later but it's worth it," Tom said, eyes glittering mischievously as he whispered, "add almond milk to the coffee next time, he HATES it."

Neswald laughed silently and shook his head as he pushed the chair back underneath the table and wandered towards the door before stopping, his hand on the handle. "I'll keep that in mind for next time."

The two shared one last smile before the door was closed. Neswald's steps echoing off the now empty halls.


	20. Chapter 20

Thank you to all who read and reviewed and waited patiently. My experience with seeing Emma Watson kicked the muse into high gear and 75% of this chapter was written over the course of three days. True it's not as long as my other chapters, but I got in enough to make a substantial chapter.

Since I recently became active in the Tomione Forum, I will be posting review replies there. :D

Ps. For those who didn't see the pic from my Emma Watson sighting check it out /Cosette_x/status/209076233059831810/photo/1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not make any money from these writings.

* * *

"Healer Watson should be here in a few minutes."

The click of the door locking marked the end of Neswald's greeting statement.

"Good," Tom replied shortly as he put the book he'd been reading, down onto the table next to him.

"You'll be fine," David went on as he pulled a metal chair towards Tom's bed and took a seat facing the man who was already relishing the steaming cup of coffee Neswald had brought him. "You have antecedents in your past; Voldemort's behavior throughout all these years matches that of an alter . . . . If she truly is unbiased like Scrimgeour claims, she will find you unfit."

As soon as Healers Neswald and Masterson finished their study of Tom Riddle and presented it to the judges along with a recommendation that he be found unfit for trial, Scrimgeour had contested these findings and asked to have Voldemort re-evaluated by another therapist, an American (to make her impartial to the suffering of the Europeans) who was considered an expert in the field of criminal psychology. She had previously evaluated defendants claiming to have multiple personalities and successfully rebuked these claims.

"What must come to pass, will pass," Tom said with an internal sigh.

Neswald narrowed his eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Oh yes, of course," Tom said rapidly his putting the cup down on the table with his left hand, "just a tad nervous, but that's understandable . . . ."

"Just tell him the truth like you did with me, and you'll be fine."

Tom's lips hinted at a smile as he nodded. "Indeed."

Then, there was the sound of the door lock being turned. Both men turned towards it as a guard opened the door and held it at arm's length.

"Healer Watson is here, Healer Neswald."

"Alright, come on Riddle."

Neswald stood up and motioned for Tom to do the same just as the guard left his post by the door and entered the room with another guard in tow. They grabbed Tom's arms and brought them behind his back as they applied a cuffing charm to them.

Neswald stepped out and held the door open for the three men before all making their way down the corridor.

"In the following weeks, all British Wizarding households should expect to receive a visit from a Ministry census taker in their residence. These Ministry employees will be collecting basic information such as ages and birth dates along with other information so we can record not only the number of casualties, but the financial toll that this war has taken on our community so that . As we move away from these dark times and into more prosperous ones, the Ministry believes it is important to preserve the memory of this horrible war not just through the minds of survivors, but through figures and other statistical data. Because of this, I ask every household member to please help us ensure the accuracy of information by being truthful and cooperative. Help us make sure this war, and Lord Voldemort's legacy is never forgotten nor repeated. Thank you."

The Minister and his office faded out as the emblem of the Ministry of Magic came onto the black screen in its place.

_"This message brought to you by The British Ministry of Magic."_

Reaching for the remote, Hermione powered off the screen with a robotic movement before throwing it aside on the sofa she had nearly forgotten existed.

She had been standing in her parents' living room for almost three hours now. She would've liked to have remained in bed as she did ever since she was brought home from the hospital, but her mother had insisted on getting her out of bed in order to get her to 'snap out of it'.

However, Hermione had already snapped out of it, if by 'it' you meant life.

She was no longer pregnant thanks to Scrimgeour's forced abortion and the brusqueness of this action had left her shellshocked. She had only known of its existence for less than five minutes before it was taken away, and yet its absence now riveted her being in a manner she had never thought possible. How could something take a hold so quickly?

Her parents had been sympathetic for the past two days, but even in all her stupor, Hermione had detected the faint tinge of impatience on them.

Maybe it was because of the influence Tom had had on her, but now even in an emotionally vulnerable state, she kept her senses powered and searching for signs of antagonism.

She knew why they felt that way, but it didn't make the blow any less felt: they had been there in the hospital and believed, like most others, that the father had been Voldemort. They were relieved the child had died, but ashamed that their daughter had been mixed up with him in the first place. Hermione hadn't told them her real feelings for him, they knew what her imperiused self had said on Rita Skeeter's show, but it seemed that she didn't need to. Her parents, or at least her mother, had already picked up the truth from within her daughter's shroud.

This did nothing to warm up Hermione's feelings towards her mother; while she understood Jean's disconcert over her choice of mate, her mother's hidden relief at the death of her grandchild was insurmountable.

Maybe that's why Hermione had been prolonging her comatose state, silently castigating her mother and relishing in the latter's dilemma as she sought to fulfill her role as a mother caring for her febrile child all the while keeping leashed her desire to shake Hermione by the shoulders and slap her senseless for having gotten herself in this predicament in the first place.

She would've stayed in bed had Jean not mentioned that Scrimgeour was giving a message on the Ministry channel her parents had recently subscribed to. The mere mention of this man had roused Hermione out of bed; she wanted to make him her muse. Maybe seeing him would rouse her dormant creative juices which had lain in drudgery and shock, the hate she would've expected to fuel these artistic coals, nonexistent. Nevertheless, seeing him on the screen, his eyes shining and shriveled mouth relaying messages of hope and ethics… it had set the cogs in motion. The coals had slowly gone ablaze and the intense surge of boiling hatred had sloshed through every recess of her mind causing her to become wide-awake. She could smell the coffee her parents had drunk in the morning and feel the complaints of the aged wooden planks underneath her parents' carpeted living room.

Hermione was awake and aware now. She had always known her target, but now, blessed by Apollo and the furies, she would bring about his unraveling.

* * *

"Healer Neswald said you informed him of three alters whose identities are known to you," Healer Watson said as she cleared her throat and looked down at the open file on her lap, the man sitting across the metal table from her waited placidly, his eyes flirting briefly with the collection of typed and handwritten notes on the woman's lap.

"Voldemort, the dominant; Seneca, the protector; and Boy, the childhood alter."

She looked up.

"That's right," he uttered.

"And you've never experienced the thoughts or actions of any other alter?"

"As far as_ I_ know it is just those three, if there are others, they have not yet made their presence known to me."

"And neither Voldemort, Seneca nor Boy have ever hinted at the existence of others?"

"Not that I can remember," Tom replied. Watson, however, seemed to have been set off by his cautious responses for she gave the most minute of smiles as she surreptitiously bent down to scribble some quick notes.

"Healer Watson, I do not want you to think I am equivocating. I simply do not feel comfortable answering these questions because, as I'm sure you've been told by now, for many years, I have been precluded from the day-to-day actions the body engaged in, and thus, I don't feel qualified to give definitive answers. Especially ones which include the body and the alters; if you want conclusive and more informative responses, I suggest you speak with Voldemort, he is the one who has been 'running the show', so to speak, for the past decades."

"Later, right now I wish to speak with you," she replied. Her tone spoke not of stolen triumphs or bitter impatience; it spoke of nothing at all. However, writing continued leaking from the swiftly moving quill, but the minute letters effortlessly evaded Tom's roaming eye.

"You see," she looked up as her quill went down on the paper, "I am having trouble believing there are only three alters because normally, for most legitimate cases of DID, we find the existence of a caretaker alter in addition to the ones you exhibit. Especially, with your background," she looked back down, her finger scanning over the page as her lips read, "orphaned at birth, raised in an inhospitable orphanage during the war, no friends or loving caretakers," she looked up, "it's only natural for a neglected child in such an inimical environment to create an imaginary parent figure and in your case, a personality."

Tom stared and blinked before giving a shrug with his right shoulder.

"When I was young I suppose I did create an imaginary mother, but in the back of my mind, I always knew she was just that, a fiction of my emotionally-deprived youthful mind."

He left off.

"And you don't think she may have developed into a personality?"

"Not that I know of."

Healer Watson gave a brief nod and before reaching under the table to a brief from where she extracted a booklet and a quill.

"Tom, this is a personality assessment I want you to take. The questions require 'yes' or 'no' answers; if there is a question or two which you can't respond or doesn't apply to you, you may leave it blank, but keep in mind that when I meet with you after I score it, I will want an explanation for each one you chose to leave unanswered." She handed him the booklet and the quill. "You may start as soon as I exit the room. This test is not timed, but it should take you around three to four hours."

"Okay," Tom answered while pulling the testing materials towards himself as he watched the healer turn her back and exit the room. Once the door closed and silence welcomed him back, he sighed and flipped the booklet open to scan the questions on the pages. Upon reaching the end, he let out another sigh. In order to have this personality test declared a valid assessment and have it paint an accurate and cohesive portrayal of "Tom," he was going to have to invest more concentration in this test, than he had in the OWLS and NEWTS put together, and now he also had to keep said focus for 567 questions. _Fuck this life._

If ever he needed coffee, it was now . . . . Then again, Neswald **was** outside….

Tom flipped the booklet open and picked up the quill.

"_**1. I like Divinidation magazines.**_"

"Healer Neswald!

* * *

Hermione had deliberated for many hours whether she should trust Ginny with this, but the redhead had shown more fealty towards her than all the other people she had grown up around. Not to mention that Ginny had more to gain by the Dark Lord breaking out than she did by him being killed. So when Ginny entered her bedroom, Hermione smiled and motioned for her to shut and lock the door. She had already placed all the necessary charms to ensure privacy and prevent unwanted listeners.

"Hermione, I'm so glad you owled me. I was afraid you wouldn't recover from this. I remember when you left the hospital your eyes were -"

"I don't wish to discuss that, Ginny" Hermione said a tad more bluntly than she would've liked. Just because she was back within the enclaves of her capacious mind, however, didn't mean that she had gotten over the murder of her child.

"Of course," Ginny said with a nod. "I understand."

"I wanted to talk to you," Hermione whispered as she patted the side of the bed next to where she sat. Ginny sat down before turning her body in full attention towards Hermione.

"Have you…" she lowered her gaze onto her hands before continuing, "have you heard from Draco lately?"

She looked up in time to see Ginny's taken back expression; she had clearly not expected Hermione to have called her here to speak of Ginny's problems.

"No, I haven't."

The shock wore off rapidly as the memory of her chagrin came over her like a dead weight.

"We also haven't heard anything from the Ministry, so I'm assuming that he's okay and hasn't been caught…." She looked up at Hermione who was eyeing her rather intensely and made Ginny swallow in apprehension while keeping her silence. The redhead not daring to make another word until she learned of Hermione's intentions behind her question.

"We're never going to live in peace, you know," the brunette finally uttered, eyes unfocused, "we are not a part of this world anymore…we belong to them. No matter how we look at it," her voice gained strength as her sagging back straightened up along with her gaze, "or try to ignore it, the fact is that we crossed a line long ago, and now we must own up to those choices." She gazed at Ginny like a general calling a soldier to action.

"You want to break the Dark Lord out?" Ginny whispered.

"I think it would be most beneficial to us both," she replied.

If the Dark Lord broke out, Draco could return, and in case the Dark Lord was resentful for his fleeing, Hermione's influence would assuage his wrath, especially if Ginny had helped her in His break out.

She looked back at Hermione. "What can I do?"

* * *

"I spoke with him today and gave him a personality assessment –"

"He already had one," Scrimgeour said rashly, impatience and ridicule lining his voice, "Neswald and Masterson made him take one; the results are in his file. They also brought in a hypnotist to draw out his other so-called "personalities"; killed a rooster with a quartz blade, contacted all his victims through a medium and inhaled opium at midnight while dancing around his father's grave!"

Healer Watson was silent as Scrimgeour stared at the speaker on his desk.

"Minister Scrimgeour, I understand that you are impatient for the diagnosis to be overturned, but I need you to let me run this examination as I have done with all my other cases. I have seen the test results, but those were from a different assessment. I will score the test tomorrow and will come in to meet with him on Thursday. I will call you Wednesday to discuss my findings."

"Fine," Rufus said grumpily, "talk to you then."

They both disconnected at the same time, and Rufus couldn't help, but pull on his rapidly thinning hair in sheer frustration. Voldemort was causing him way too much trouble… this was not how it was supposed to have gone. He should've been disabled and imprisoned for life already! Preferably, killed!

On the other hand, the census for Craine and Hogan had been mailed out already, so that was one less load he had to carry. Those despicable muggles and their secretaries had been pestering him for weeks now! By the end of the month, they should have recorded most answers, and then they could send them to the muggles.

Forcefully, Rufus tried to ignore his thoughts which had chilled as the ominous threat of a muggle takeover once more entered his mind, but it was irrational. They wouldn't take over; he would prevent it. He would protect his people and use the muggles and their investment capital to boost the post-war economy… he would be the one to get the upper hand! They were just worthless, expendable beings after all.

"Minister Scrimgeour."

Rufus' eyes flickered over to the black speaker on his disk, and he pressed the intercom button to reply.

"Yes, Monika?"

"Ms. Ginevra Weasley is here to speak with you."

Scrimgeour's brow furrowed, and his eyes narrowed. What could - ?

Ignoring the speaker on his desk, he swept himself off his seat and crossed through his office towards the closed door leading to the reception hall.

As soon as he twisted the door knob and stepped out, he spotted the youngest Weasley standing in front of Monika's desk impeccably dressed in an emerald skirt suit which set off her flaming hair with an orange halo.

"Hello, Ms. Weasley," he said attempting not to sound too surprised.

She smiled and walked over to shake his hand. "Hello Minister, I'm sorry to disturb, but I wish to speak with you of a rather urgent matter."

"Yes, of course," Scrimgeour placed his hand on the middle of her back and pressed her forward into his office. He nodded at Monika and signaled for her to cast anti-disturbing charms on his door.

"So what brings you here, Ms. Weasley?"

He turned around to find she was sitting ramrod-straight in the chair facing his unoccupied desk onto which she had placed what looked to be a book. Ignoring her silence, Scrimgeour walked around his desk and took the small book off the wooden surface as he absentmindedly sat down and begun skimming over it.

It was a diary.

Enthralled and breath constricted from the thrum of excitement at what he was realizing this offering was, Rufus opened the first page.

_"Day one at Voldemort's headquarters, and I have to say it is not as bad as I thought it would be. As embarrassed and trite as this may sound, I thought it would be full of cow webs and blood-splattered walls, but instead it is refined, clean and filled with priceless antiques, all courtesy of His ennobled agnatic line._"

Scrimgeour passed the pages until he was more towards the end of the book before continuing his reading.

_"Voldemort and I spent the whole (well, most) of the evening discussing the Hogwarts educational curriculum. He believes that languages should be required, and I agree with him on that, you wouldn't believe all the grief I got from Ron after I told him I'd studied Latin as a child. He acted as if knowing other languages was something reserved for arrogant, upper-crusters. He even had the nerve to tell me I'd feel right at home with the Malfoys!_

_Oh diary, this is the main reason why I have fallen in love him. He is so intelligent and well spoken; our ideas are often the same! I love Ron and Harry, but it is so refreshing to speak with someone who values the life of the mind before that of the body._

_I don't know what I'll do when this assignment's over… I don't know if I'll be able to leave…I like to think that I would, but I must also confess that the idea of staying with him and becoming his wife, as he's asked of me, sounds a lot more appealing."_

Scrimgeour was speechless as he closed the book and stroked its cover, the belle of his eyes at the moment. He then looked up at Ms. Weasley.

"I thought you two were friends."

The redhead's lips pursed. "So did I. Until that day at the hospital when we found out she was pregnant with the Dark Lord's child. At first, I wanted to believe that it was Ron's, but he later assured me that he hadn't been with Hermione the week of conception. Then, when I confronted her about it, she admitted that You-Know-Who was the father and burst into tears as she went on about her undying love for him and how much she missed him."

Ginny's acerbic tone infused her flaming brown eyes giving them a vindictive glimmer that Rufus could not only identify with, but inflame as well.

He cleared his throat.

"So what are you suggesting I do?"

"Use it against her," Ginny snapped; chin angled towards her chest like a resentful child. "Force her to testify against Voldemort's diagnosis of DID, all of us at the Order know that he is faking, and this is the perfect way to tilt the scales in our favor. Threaten to publish her diary and imprison her, unless she testifies against Voldemort and says that he never exhibited multiple personalities. It is public knowledge that she was his lover; people will give more weight to her testimony than anyone else who you could put on that stand."

Rufus was smiling as Ginevra finished her winded speech and looked on at him expectantly.

"Quite well thought out and coldly calculated, Ms. Weasley, I would've never expected something like this from you."

He fondled the unoffending leather book as her plan solidified in his mind.

"Do you know where I can find Ms. Granger?"

"Her parent's house," Ginny replied.

He smirked as he looked up. "Aww, the little whore's run home to mommy and daddy?"

Ginny kept mute while reciprocating his tightlipped smirk, hers, however, seemed strained.

"I will pay Ms. Granger a visit," he said raising his voice and standing up from his chair, Ginny mimicking his moves. "Pay close attention to the news, and you'll see how the plan unfolds. Thank you so much for this, Ms. Weasley, like you said, this might be the one testimony that tips the scale in our favor."

Ginny smiled as he opened the door and held it for her.

"Thank you, Minister."

* * *

**"Anyone who is able and willing to work hard has a good chance of succeeding."**

Tom bit the end of the pencil. He was about to say 'yes', but Tom was supposed to have low self-esteem. So the answer was 'no'.

**"I seem to be about as capable and smart as most others around me."**

"No."

_I am MORE capable than everyone else. _He smirked. _However in Tom's case, he's less capable. _Voldemort fought hard not to roll his eyes.

**"Most people will use somewhat unfair means to gain profit or an advantage rather than to lose it."**

_'No'…but then that doesn't account for Voldemort's and Seneca's actions towards Tom. If I say yes, on the other hand, he can come off as either cynical or antisocial, and the latter we definitely don't want…._

Tom sipped from his mug of now lukewarm coffee as he mapped the ramifications of each of his answer choices.

_However, based on the other questions answered, Tom would come off as having low self-esteem and a cynical view of life, which of course is all understandable due to his experiences._

He decided for 'yes'.

**"I have never indulged in any unusual sex practices."**

_Prude Tom, absolutely not._

**"If I could get into a Quidditch game without paying and be sure I was not seen I would probably do it."**

_Why would I want to be in a Quidditch game in the first place? Unless Harry was there of course…._

Tom gripped the quill tighter between his fingers. His automatic answer for Tom would be 'no' since he's a normal, goody-two shoes. However, if he comes off as too moral, it would probably set off flags as well.

Tom pondered the question._ Yes, we wouldn't want Tom coming out one-dimensional, that wouldn't be believable._

Rapidly, he scrawled a 'yes'.

**"My conduct is largely controlled by the behavior of those around me."**

Tom's immediate affirmative response was cut off mid-sentence as his eyes narrowed in thought and then popped open; a smile of glee broke over his face. _No! Ha trick question!_ Rapidly, he cursed himself for his show of glee and looked back down at the test.

_No, because a person's conduct is dictated by their conscience, not the behavior of others._

_Ha! Got it right. . . .Hehe all that reading is paying off already, yes!_

Excitement renewed, Tom set forth and skimmed over the exam to find similarly deceptive questions. All the other ones had been easy and straightforward, but that one… oh that one got his blood pumping! _There has to be more…._

Tom straightened up and licked his lips, eyes rapidly scanning over the pages. So far, he had 1 and the test 0! He had to find another one to gain another point….

**"If given the chance I could do some things that would be of great benefit to the world."**

_Of course! If only the stupid Ministry stepped down and let me kill all the Muggles and enslave Muggleborns!_ Tom rolled his eyes, his gay mood becoming spoiled.

**"389. I am not easily angered."**

A light bulb went off in Tom's head as he recalled a previous question which asked the same thing. Quickly, he paged through the booklet until he reached said question.

**"129. I am often said to be hotheaded"**

He'd said 'no' on that one, so he would naturally say 'yes' on 389.

He smirked. _Ha! Too smart for these stupid shrinks…. Inserting the same question reworded to see if I answer differently._

**"I have had a tragic loss in my life that I know I'll never get over."**

_Of course!_ Tom thought as he wrote an affirmative answer and shook his head to fight off the waves of anger that were threatening to overtake him. Stupid, worthless Malfoy giving Weasley his diary! His favored and most meaningful Horcrux, why he had been like his child! Poor little 15-year-old Tom…he had bravely sought to undertake the purpose for which he was created, but was thrown into a fight which he wasn't ready to take on. He was a martyr….

He was definitely breaking Malfoy out…and torturing him for an entire afternoon. The first time around he'd gotten off easy now that he thought about it…maybe he would also involve Draco in the punishment this time around….

**"I have very little to do with my relatives now."**

_Well of course, they all died on me._

**"When I am sad, visiting my friends can always pull me out of it."**

_Certainly, torturing and messing with their minds is invariably fun._

**"The people I work with are not sympathetic with my problems."**

_No they are not! That's why I torture them, and then they have the nerve to complain._

Tom rolled his eyes. _Those Death Eaters anger me too much, and what do I get in return? Nothing!_

Maybe he needed to rethink his career choice. He had four decades of charity work on his resume, now he more than deserved to do something for himself.

**"I often feel guilty because I pretend to feel more sorry about something than I really do."**

_Hmm…another tricky question_. Tom sat back. _Well, I have never truly felt penitent in the normal people sense of the word; therefore, I cannot feel guilt for pretending to feel more sorry about something. Hmm…._

Suddenly, it came to him, Hermione! What would she answer?

He tried to think of a scenario. That time that she refused to have sex with him because she was on her period, perfect. She kept saying she was sorry, but he didn't think she was that desolate. Concentrating, Tom eased himself into her shoes, _okay I feel bad because I can't fuck him even though he really needs it… ugh, I'm such a selfish bitch, but no_. Tom shook his head, _focus! I tell him I feel guilty even though I really don't want to do it because I have cramps. Okay._

Tom sat back frustrated. _Fuck, the information had all gone out of his head. Ugh, it was becoming impossible to concentrate,_ he was so bored!

_Okay once more, I have to get this right!_

Different approach, what would he answer? Well, he had never really felt sorry for doing something (unless it was detrimental to himself of course), so that was a 'no', and he at no time had felt guilty. Therefore, two negative statements equal a negative!

_So if I say 'no', normal people say 'yes'. Hmm… but then that would be admitting duplicity, which is not something I want associated with Tom. Ah! But the 'guilty' part counteracted that!_ Once more, Tom jumped up in his seat, he'd solved it! He'd solved it! Excited once more, he went over the problem in his mind to verify his solution

A. I often feel guilty.

B. I pretend to feel more sorry about something than I really do.

Okay, he would answer that A is 'no' and B is 'yes', but that equals antisocial, which is bad. Therefore, he must answer the opposite which is what Hermione would answer.

Consequently, A is 'yes' and B is 'no', that equals a good person. However, he needed a 'yes' or 'no' answer, not both! Ugh.

Tom sunk back in his seat and wrinkled his nose. So complicated…he hated math.

Hmm… well maybe he didn't need to be a goody two shoes like Hermione. No, Tom was no wholly good person! He had flaws. _Ha! Okay._

_So if I say 'yes' to A and B, then that balances itself out! Because 'yes' I pretend to feel more sorry about something than I actually am, but I'm still a good person because I feel guilt over it! Hussaz!_

Tom's body jumped slightly off his seat, giddy with joy as he wrote a big 'yes' on the question.

On the other side of the two-way glass, Healer Neswald watched; a deep frown extending over his forehead.

* * *

Hermione awaited the minister as she finished brushing her hair and putting it up in a ponytail. She didn't know why, but she was sure he would come to blackmail her immediately. Scrimgeour wasn't one to wait around. She didn't want to look like she'd been expecting him, of course, that would be suspicious; however, she also didn't want to look like she'd been undergoing a severe depression and had all but lost the will to live. She would not give him that satisfaction, not that that was the case anymore, anyway.

She smiled at the mirror. There was hope.

Then, there was a knock on her door and her mother stuck her head in. Hermione's stomach rapidly constricted.

"Honey, dinner's ready."

Disappointment fueled her insides, but she was careful not to show it.

"I'll be down in a minute."

Jean nodded and then smiled. "I am so glad to see you feel better, Hermione. You have no idea how hard these weeks have been for your father and I."

"Yeah, me too."

She smiled softly.

Giving her one last loving glance, Jean shut the door and Hermione heard her heels clattering over the hardwood floors on their way back downstairs.

After verifying the house's address once more, Rufus rung the doorbell. He could hear voices coming from what he assumed was the living or dining room. The blinds were drawn over the large windows; so he couldn't see anything other than the light pooling out. However, he could hear them as the chatter stopped and the footsteps came to greet him.

Straightening up, he swallowed in preparation as the door was opened to reveal a man who must've been Mr. Granger.

"Hugo Granger?"

"Yes," he said, "who are you?"

"Hello, I am Minister Rufus Scrimgeour from the Ministry of Magic, I was wondering if Hermione was home. I have something of an urgent nature to discuss with her."

"Oh, well nice to meet you, Minister!" Hugo said rapidly extending his hand to Rufus and stepping aside to let him in. "My wife and I get the Ministry channel on the telly; I knew you looked familiar! Hermione's right in the dining room. We were having dinner you see."

"Oh, well I'm very sorry to interrupt you," Rufus replied cursorily as both men entered the dining room where the two women sat.

"Jean, this is the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour! The one we see on the telly," Hugo added.

"Oh yes of course, I recognize you, Minister," Jean said as she stood up hurriedly and went to shake his hand. "This is such an honor, would you like to have dinner with us?"

"Oh, that is such a thoughtful invitation, Mrs. Granger. However, I am in a hurry at the moment. I actually came to speak with Ms. Granger here. Just for a few minutes, I promise I won't take up more of your time."

At this, Hermione stood up.

"Oh okay, would you like some tea or coffee at least, while you have your discussion?" Jean went on undaunted.

Scrimgeour bowed his head and shook it with a smile. "I'm fine, Mrs. Granger; I promise, but thank you so much for your hospitality."

With that, he exited the room. Hermione at his heels.

Once they were in the foyer, he turned to her expectantly.

"We can go in the formal living room," she said, guessing what his question was.

Attempting his hide his glee, Rufus nodded and followed her into the aforementioned space. Once there, she sat down on the black leather sofa as he cast spells around the room to make sure her parents wouldn't hear.

"So why are you here?"

"Cutting straight to the chase, aren't you? Too bad you're not more hospitable like your wonderful parents, how did the apple fall so far from the tree?"

Hermione's glare became more pronounced.

"Alright then," he sighed and withdrew the diary from his robes' pocket. Instantly, Hermione seized up, and Rufus couldn't fight his grin as he saw her Adam's apple bob nervously.

"This recently came into my possession, Hermione, I've been having quite the time reading all about your experiences in the past year; especially about your infatuation with Lord Voldemort." He looked up at her pale face, her breathing arrhythmic.

"How did you get that?" she let out.

"That doesn't matter," he replied with a smirk, "what matters is that I have it, and I can put you behind bars for the rest of your life for it."

Hermione swallowed once more and looked up at him, eyes filled with tears of styx.

"What do you want for it?"

"You will testify against your love both on the stand and through a written and sworn confession. I know that he is faking DID. I know he is nothing more than a depraved psychopath, and you know that too."

"I don't care what you do to me, I would not be able to live with myself if I breached his trust like that," Hermione let out shakily.

"That's to be expected, but look at it this way, Hermione, if you do it, you can go home and kill yourself, that way you don't have to live with the guilt. If you don't do it, however, I'll have you imprisoned for life, you know what that means? That means you will spend the rest of your life thinking about him and your betrayal."

Hermione's tear filled eyes spilt down her cheeks; saltine trails creating works of sorrow over the canvas of her heated cheeks.

"Can you at least, please, let me see him one last time to say good-bye?" she let out meekly.

Rufus' immediate answer was 'no'. However, he stopped himself and thought about it; he would have them watched and if anything, it would make things more painful for her to have to see him in person. Plus, one never knew what he or she may verbally slip in the heat of emotions.

"Fine, Ms. Granger, I will concede you that much," he said solemnly.

Granger looked down with a small smile as she allowed the rest of her tears to flow. "Thank you."

Having done what he'd come to do, Rufus stood up and begun his walk back towards the door to the tune of the girl's sobs.

"Oh and Ms. Granger? Don't try to get out of testifying by killing yourself, I have the house watched by a squad of Aurors and some crafty spells to alert them of your every move. I'll owl you tomorrow to let you know when you can come in to meet with him."

Hermione didn't respond, but rather continued sobbing. He knew she'd heard him though, and so he swept out of the house and into the darkness of the night.


End file.
